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Holiday Movie Rip-Off...

Grumpy helps capture Saddam Hussein

Now I don’t wish to be mean, however, I’m more than slightly peeved.

Christmas was fine, New Year’s Eve was exceptional – due to a 30-year-old whiskey and a slightly younger nurse – but New Year’s Day …

It started off okay, a couple of painkillers and a lengthy shower to freshen up and get my wits back and then it was off to my mate James Anthony’s house to pick up his kids.

I had promised the guy a bit of a break from children while he painted the Anthony mansion and so decided to take them off to the movies.

Hoyts was the choice and I am mentioning that theatre chain on purpose. Read on to see why.

The children were very polite with their great-great-great-great-great uncle Grumpy and so we had a vote and decided that the movie to see would be the just-released Spy Kids 3.

We’d all sat around and enjoyed Spy Kids 2 on DVD and so the chance to watch the next installment of this great series in 3D - and on the big screen - was too much to spurn.

So, having taken out a second mortgage to buy popcorn and drinks from the Hoyt’s sweets shop I was ready with a wheelbarrow-load of cash.

"Three kids and a slightly old juvenile," I said to the woman behind the counter.

I had my $50 note ready and it was whipped out of my hand faster than you could blink.

“Are you moonlighting from the Tax Office?” quipped I. Grunt came the response. Hmmmm, okay, I guess it’s a little early in the year for good humour.

“Here’s your change smarty pants,” scowled she-of-the-laughing-countenance.

“Er, is there some mistake, madam, I gave you as $50. You’ve given me $6 change.”

“Tickets are $44 gramps, that’s what you asked for.”

I did a quick mental calculation and thought that it was usually around the $30-$35 mark.

“Er, how much for the tickets my lovely,” I beamed.

“There’s a 50% surcharge for being on a public holiday.”

“What? When did that come in?”

“Today. Read the sign.” So I got out my pocket microscope and peered at the two-point script at the bottom of the tiny sign tucked away in the gloomy corner of the Hoyts theatre. Well, stuff me she was right.

“You don’t have to go in you know. You can come back another day,” she grinned mischieviously, looking at the beaming and expectant faces of my young charges.

Now if the littlies hadn’t been there it would have been a demand for a refund from Hoyts and we would have returned on a cheaper day. But she had me by the short and curlies and so there nothing to do but smile (honestly) and get on with things.

While going in to the cinema I checked with a couple of the young folk manning the place and they had been surprised by the Hoyts surcharge when they had arrived at work that morning.

“Must be to pay you youngsters a 50% loading on your massive daily wages,” I said to them. They smiled and shook their heads. I smiled back, the poor things probably get about $1 an hour.

Now I don’t begrudge them getting more money (if indeed it is passed on to them), what irritates me is the lack of notice of this 50% public holiday surcharge at Hoyts.

It was a nasty shock to get at the box office and, judging by the three other people in the cinema, is one that will cop a bit of a public backlash.

I think the Hoyts mob should pull their heads in and realize that in these days of home cinemas and DVDs that their offerings are exceptionally expensive.

Let’s face it, for the cost of those tickets I could have bought a DVD and had plenty of change left over. Throw in the cost of popcorn, drinks and the like and I could almost buy a Third World nation.

Guess Hoyts has a death wish and doesn’t mind cutting its own throat.

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com