A few things I hate about customer service and IVAN THE TERRIBLE PT. 2 (88)

I work in a place filled with customers, tourists at that and I've taken note of some of my least favorite types and thought I might share:

1. The money thrower - these are the folk who note that you're reaching your hand out in the age old method of taking money directly from someone's hand, a sort of slight touch that reminds both customer and worker that, yes, we're both humans. They stare you straight in the eye, watch for that final moment where you're just about to take their money ... and then throw it, coins and all, on to the surface in front of them and you. Thanks a lot bumfuck, now I have to scrounge your dirty quarters off the ground.

2. The French (specifically the old French) - this has happened twice now: a mob of geriatric Frenchies storm in to the space I work, find the first person who seems to be working and just start yelling out orders without rhyme or reason ("Cappucino", "Espresso", "Espresso", "Cappucino") flailing about and generally causing confusion. This would be bad enough, but instead this belligerent French folk then proceed to muscle their way in front of everyone, pointing fat fingers and haranguing the baristas about their drinks. Followed, and this has happened twice now, pointing to their wrist watches as if their time is more important than anyone elses. Both times I've had to retreat in to the back area, turn towards the wall and just seeth in anger.

3. The Old - I'm an agist, I'll admit it. I'm just waiting for my parents to start babbling so I can ship 'em off to the retirement home, but at my place of employment I just can't avoid them. They're confused, they, much like the French, jab fat fingers and demand ridiculous things. They pay in pennies and are angry when I won't give them free samples of things we can't sample. I know, they're old and thus prime for respect and adoration, but, I don't buy it. You're old, you've lived more life, act like it. Rent a nurse if you want some one to change your diaper.

4. Penny Pinchers - these are the people who wait in line for fifteen minutes, are angry about said line, throw me dirty looks, and then when asked to pay, spend twenty-two minutes picking through their change purses trying to get the exact change of a two dollar cup of coffee. Their reasoning? Most often times, so they won't have to tip. I will put you on a boat with the old people and the French and the change throwers and I will ship you to Monster Island where a giant vermicious kinid will eat you. And I will laugh and laugh and laugh, and the whole world will cheer, "Hurrah! Noah! Hurrah!" And I will buy a gold grill and smile while drinking champagne.

Well, that's how I see it at least.

Ivan The Terrible Pt. 2 (88) in magical bullet points that I jotted down while watching the film:

- Rise and fall of Ivan - when I wrote this note I thought this second film was more about the fall of Ivan, but more so it's about how corrupt and disgusting the power base of Russia was then and now. Sure, Ivan is a total loon for the entire film and ends it by killing a child, but he's victorious in the end, so I retract my note.

- Empty titles (echoing voice) - there was a scene with a huge room and Ivan bellowing out some new title, I imagined it signified how empty these positions of power ... or that Ivan lived in one spooky castle.

- Ivan is nuts - this is true, in the course of two movies, he goes from well trimmed Tsar, to fu manchu sporting wack job. It's probably the extended time he spends with his wife's corpse in the first film, that always throws people over the edge. Nonetheless, Ivan wasn't exactly the holder of all his marbles by the end of his life.

- Russians = big eyes - I don't know if Eisenstein cast this film by measuring people's eyeballs but damn if malnutrition and war didn't effect the gigantic size of the Ruskie's peepers. Stalin, though you ruined a country, you certainly had a mighty fine selection of eyes.

- Trippy, clusterfuck - by the time Ivan is intoxicating his young ward and the entire film has turned in to a red-washed banquet born from the Devil's womb, all I could think was these two words. If I was on mushrooms, this would've been the point when I threw up. A lot.

Turns out, I kind of liked the Ivans (88). They aren't films I'm watching on a yearly basis, but I certainly didn't mind their bizarreness in any way. If you're feeling somewhat film-venturous, I say give this a chance.

If not, stay far far away.

Tuesday: Sisters (89)