The movie theater complex I work at is a pretty standard one.

Large lobby, popcorn and confectionery stands, and film posters everywhere you lock.

Numerous screens with row after row of seats and soft, if a little dusty red fabric.

We have 12 screens in total, officially.

They're pretty obviously laid out.

You grab your ticket and head past the attendant and the little rote off gate.

On you go through one of the wide, scarlet corridors of the complex.

Past large, mainly glowing white signs with enormous numbers printed across their faces.

Screens 1-5 on the left, screen 7-12 on the right, screen 6 straight ahead.

Screens 9 onwards requires you to head around a corner at the far end, and for screen 12

another still.

There's a bunch of stuff back there, a large supply closet, a vending machine, restrooms,

employ only areas that lead you to some of the screen's backstages, not as exciting

as you might think.

And then, there's something else as well.

We don't really know much about it.

The big boss has forbidden us from heading down, but he's never actually here.

So naturally, we ignore this rule pretty frequently.

My immediate supervisor loves going down.

When there's a few of us off shift, we'll typically sneak off as a little squad, head

down with a few boxes of popcorn and watch for like an hour or more.

It's always fascinating, and it's always different.

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