I just had a disciplinary meeting during which I was reminded of a cold New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day spent at the Barrington Lakes theatre in Barrington Illinois in the late 1990’s. I laughed so hard thinking about this event that I thought I should put it down in writing before I permanently forget it (which is doubtful, but who knows?).
Some of you may recall my days as a movie theatre jerk. You see I can’t even spell the word theatre with an “er” ending if I try. I think that’s because Classic Cinemas ground the proper British spelling into our heads as a part of our new employee training, though I have no evidence to support these claims.
I started work as a concession clerkat the Lindo Theatre in Freeport, Illinois very shortly after wrapping up my first summer as a camp counselor at Canyon Camp in the August of 1993. I remember returning home after the summer at camp looking for a better paying school-year-job and saw a “help wanted” sign in the window of the theatre box office.
I applied immediately, succumbed to the rigorous math test and was given my first maroon apron, black bow tie and swanky name tag. I can still smell the “true blue” glass cleaner and “deep purple” de-greasing agent under the counter. Ah, what a great gig for a high-school student – free movies and all the freeloaders friends you could ever regret wish for.
Fast-forward through countless bizarre anecdotes, advance-screenings and hands full of Classic Cinemas’ mints. The year was 1999 and I was an itinerant assistant manager for the theatre chain during my winter, spring and summer breaks from college. I had received the management training at a theatre in Fox Lake, Illinois and as such was qualified to cover other manager’s absences at the various locations throughout the Chicagoland area.
While home for winter break ‘99-00 I was planning on spending a calm break working several hours at the Lindo and making some cash to pay for books and sundries at school. Very shortly after returning to Freeport I learned that there was a management shortage over the holidays and the central staff was looking for a couple assistant managers to float around at some of the suburban theatres. I volunteered (the pay was good and they were going to put me up at a hotel).
The assignment I received was two-fold: I was to report to the Casino Theatre in Elgin (at the Grand Victoria) New Year’s eve and then work at the Barrington Lakes theatre for New Year’s Day. Both theatres were sub-run houses (they only show movies that have been out for months already), so the pressure of heavy crowds was decreased from word go.
The stint at Elgin went reasonably well. I always wondered why the Casino had such high per capita concession sales. Well, when you show movies even down-on-your luck gambling addicts won’t watch and simultaneously sell hot, fresh popcorn right outside a casino you are bound to excel at concession sales and suck at ticket sales. Duh. Perfect storm.
I might have had an employee working with me that day, I can’t honestly remember – it was that slow. I probably let that person go home early if they showed up at all, business was so slow.
That night the hotel motel I stayed in was better than the Bates motel. Not much, but better. It was a very uneventful New Year’s Eve, perhaps my most uneventful ever. But hey, I was earning money and not spending it. That’s a winner in my book.
The next morning I woke up with plenty of time to check out of my lodgings and get over to Barrington Lakes theater, another sub-run theatre with multiple screens. The weather was crisp and cool. I arrived at the theatre and keyed myself inside. My first task was to turn the heat up from the over-night economy settings. I set the thermostats and went to the office to begin counting out cash drawers for the concession workers who would be arriving shortly. I remember my cold digits unwillingly counting out the singles, fives and tens, and the bitter sting of the metal coins. I was waiting for the heat to kick in.
About 45 minutes passed with no noticeable change in temperature when I went back to the thermostat to check on the heating progress. The settings were correct (it was the style thermostat from the Lindo, so I know my settings were accurate). I checked a few vents and discovered there was no heat coming out of them. Indeed, the temperature in the building was DROPPING, not warming.
Rarely, if ever, did a need arise where I felt I should call Rosario, the Hispanic handyman of the theatre chain. I remember him as a very taciturn but effective staff member. Whenever he came to the Lindo to do work he just sort of disappeared for a while and when he popped back up the work was done and all was well in the world of theatre maintenance. He had a very pleasant personality, and he was the sort of person that made you feel guilty for presenting him with a difficult problem.
When I realized no amount of tinkering with the thermostat or swearing would make the heat come on, I was forced to admit defeat and dial the phone number for the on-call maintenance staff pager.
When Rosario called back almost 20 minutes later, the situation was getting desperate – the temperature in the theatre continued to drop, employees and patrons started showing up and demanding answers. I explained the situation to Rosario and he sort of chuckled at me. I remember thinking, “Oh, great. I’ve overlooked some obvious fix and Rosario is preparing to give me the greenhorn lecture.”
I couldn’t have been more wrong: Rosario was chuckling because he already knew what I would have to do to fix the problem.
To set the scene – Rosario sounded as if he had gotten into the egg nog already and he started explaining a process that sounded more like a treasure hunt than a HVAC repair technique. The long and the short of it was that I needed to find the keys to the roof-access, climb a ladder, exit the (snow-covered) roof hatch and make my way (carefully, the roof membrane was sensitive) to the HVAC unit and flick a reset switch located in some unreasonably complicated spot in order to get the heat to come on.
Great.
By now I had a good number of employees on hand and they were able to get the front counter staffed and ready to accept the thronging hordes of holiday movie-goers taken care of (why were they coming to see sub-run films, and why were they so persistent to see such terrible films?!). I had prepared all the films to begin playing at their appointed time while I waited for Rosario’s call, so things were in good shape.
Well, finding the keys was tedious, nothing was labeled well as I recall, and then finding the access hatch was a challenge, not to mention opening it once located. The snow and ice had formed a sort of air-tight seal around the opening and I had to force my way onto the winter waste-land that was the roof of the Barrington Lakes theatre.
The change in lighting from the roof access chute to the blinding frozen rooftop almost knocked me off the ladder. I regained visual clarity and then proceeded to the HVAC unit. It took some wading through the snow drifts (in my snappy dress shoes, mind you) to get to the unit, then it took at least three trips around the unit’s perimeter to find the hidden switch. I flicked it, the unit started humming and I wanted to crawl into a warm bed and forget this whole day. Hadn’t I done enough already?
The rest of the day was relatively boring compared with how it started. The patron’s questions and concerns all seemed trivial to my arctic adventure earlier that morning.
Now whenever I hear of the town of Barrington my mind floats to the roof of that theatre, and now you know why.
