Spring Fling
Last weekend was Spring Fling, a carnival hosted by the students of UofA. It’s the largets student run carnival in the country.
In order for a student club to have a booth at the carnival, the club has to send some students to volunteer as cashiers. My club was participating, so I was like, “I can be a cashier, no problem!”
The cashier training consisted of a lady telling a group of 100 college kids, “If you show up drunk, your club will be fined $300, and you will be sent home so we will fine your club for an additional $150 for cashier absence. Also, once you start your four hour shift, you’re not allowed out of your booth to go to the bathroom. Do not use your walkie-talkies to ask to go to the bathroom. Good luck!”
Friday night I showed up to start my shift. I stepped into the cashier check-in line, picked up my little tin cash box, and then sat down in the waiting room. I was waiting to be escorted to my ticket booth. ESCORTED. I’ve never been escorted anywhere before in my whole entire life.
Finally, a group of escorts came into the waiting room. They all wore matching black backpacks and walkie-talkies were clipped to their shoulders. My escort found me and motioned for me to hand over the cash box. He slipped the box into his back pack, and started giving last minute instructions.
“You’re going to Ravenclaw 1, it’s the first booth after the entrance, so it’s going to be really busy. All of the boothes are named after Harry Potter houses; the home base is Hogwarts. There will be a list of codes posted in the booth. Use the codes when you need anything involving money or tickets. Let’s go.”
We slipped out into the crowd. I tried to look inconspicuous, but I couldn’t stop myself from humming the Mission Impossible theme. It just fit, okay?
Once we got to the booth my escort said, “Listen to my knock. Don’t open the door unless you hear this pattern.” I was all, dude this is pretty intense, then I went back to humming the Mission Impossible theme. And then my escort didn’t talk to me anymore.
The code words were different brands of soda. If you needed a Coke, then there was an emergency. A Sprite meant that you needed more tickets to sell. Asking for a Pepsi was asking to make a cash deposit (you can’t have $5,000 sitting in a little box with you). Over the course of the night, I could hear the other cashiers on the radio. They were getting a little worn and uncomfortable.
“Syltherin 2 to Hogwarts. What’s the 4-1-1 on the H-2-O?”
“Are you asking for water?”
“Yeah. I’m thirsty.”
“It’s water, you don’t have to use a code for that.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll be right over.”
–An hour later–
“Slytherin 2 to Hogwarts. We have a Coke.”
“Hogwarts to Slytherin 2. What’s your emergency?”
“Well, it’s kind of like a Diet Coke.”
“What’s your emergency?!”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Dude. No.”
–2o minutes later–
“Slytherin 2 to Hogwarts. Can I have a Coke?”
“Hogwarts to Slytherin 2. What’s your emergency?”
“I repeat, Can I have a Coke, over.”
“Do you have an emergency, or are you asking for a Coke?”
“Yeah, can I have a Coke?”
“So you don’t have an emergency?”
“No, I want a Coke.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Are you asking for a carbonated beverage to drink?”
“Yes.”
“Denied.”
I did figure out why using the code words were so important — I pulled in over $5000. That was just my booth, for just three hours. I’ve never handled so much cash in my whole entire life.
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