Ghosts

I have never understood people who treat service workers as people who are less than, that for whatever reason they do not deserve your proper respect and appreciation. Maybe my understanding comes from having been raised in households that owned and operated small businesses.  Perhaps it’s because I have been working since the age of fifteen and have had a slew of menial low wage professions along the way.

While attending Humboldt State University in 2001, I got a job at one of the coolest places in town to work, The Minor Theatre. 

Houdini himself even performed there, the trap door is still intact. This was the place where the cool kids slung popcorn that the hip natives could sprinkle yeast on that was provided complimentary. The cashier’s could let in their friends and were privy to “Midnight showings” of all the new releases.

I was the janitor.

I got to clean up after the midnight porn shows, scrub the urinals, check the mice traps and for a special treat every once in awhile I got to run petrified from the 1914 three room theatre, equipped with a balcony, sure that I had just seen a ghost. (Side note: The place really is haunted. Several people have claimed to see a little girl in white in the balcony seating.)

The best day was when I was enthusiastically (out of fear, not the joy of cleaning) climbing the stairs of said balcony and smacked my head on a speaker. It knocked me out cold; I fell flat on the walkway, luckily avoiding any chairs.

The next thing I knew I felt a sharp pinch on my arm, almost like a tiny bite. It shocked me awake and as I collected myself I couldn't help but think it was that little girl in the white dress, making me come to. I cleaned by myself so who knows how long I would've laid there.

I wasn't so scared after that day, although some probably would've quit, I felt like we had a mutual understanding after that. I would allow her to stay there and scare the shit out of people and she would let me work in peace, even come to my aid if need be. I ended up in the ER that night with a concussion and the ligaments in my neck torn, but that’s another story in itself.

This is opening night in 1914. My favorite are the two girls in white hats. I have looked at this photo so many times I feel as though it's a family photo.

One day I was mopping the tiles outside and a man stopped to ask me a question about a movie that I didn't know the answer to so I told him, “I don’t know, I’m just the janitor.” To which he replied, “You’re not just the janitor. Your work is important too.” It made me stop and think about the roles we all play and how a little kindness can go a long way, especially to those who do the jobs that most don’t want.

I eventually became a concessionaire and then a cashier and even started to be trained as a projectionist. The tales were all true. There was drinking, parties, wild nights, and popcorn with as much yeast as I wanted! The best part was that I made lifelong friends with some of the most interesting people.

Moral of the story, people who clean urinals are people too, please aim wisely.