Every Friday I dig into the archives and dust off an old post. If you haven’t read it, it’s new to you!
A couple of weeks ago our kids were out of school for spring break. Because we’re the type of parents who prefer to show our love by shoving a bucket of trans fats in their hands and paying lots of money to sit in a dark room, we decided to take children #2 and 3 to see The Croods.
(Side note: I highly recommend this movie, mainly because Nicholas Cage is a much better animated actor when you don’t have to look at his pained facial expressions. And the toddler was strangely familiar…)
But I digress. Someone had given us a Fandango gift card, so I called a local theater to make sure we could use it there. This was the convo:
ME: Um, yes. I was wondering. Do you take Fandango gift cards?
NON HELPFUL LOCAL MOVIE THEATER CUSTOMER SERVICE REP: Yeah.
ME: Uh, okay. And were you also hired exclusively on your ability to mumble and give one word answers? (I didn’t say that. But I wanted to. Oh, I wanted to.)
So off we went to the theater, where I asked for four tickets and handed the lady behind the window the gift card. As you might have guessed, there was a problem: