My lady and I just went to the downtown theater and saw Iron Man. Pretty cool, kids, pretty cool. I'm gonna get me one of them nifty suits. Then you'll all be sorry.
While watching the girlfriend purchase tickets (that's how pimps roll, yo), I had a chance to admire some of the equipment I've been dealing with behind the scenes in my new showbiz job. Actually, I'm ashamed to be able to tell you the make of the ticket printer that spit out our tickets. I should not know things like that. It's really none of my business. Except it is, temporarily.
Anyway, I've apparently got nothing to blog about this week except my temp job, so I'll continue. We've been going through boxes of outdated equipment that has been shipped back, and that includes lots of cash drawers from registers. What would you do if you had a box full of used cash drawers to process? That's right, you'd take the bastards apart to see if there's any cash left in them. Let me tell you: there is. There are about ten of us and we've been treated to lunch the past two days by careless teenage theater employees whose tills must have been a wee bit off on a shift or two. A hundred dollar bill was found in one, and that wasn't even half of the total bounty. So far.
If I was $100 short after my shift scooping popcorn, I'd start by looking behind the drawer. That shit'll get you fired. Heh, I just made a contraction out of shit. Awesome.