That lady up there is Debbie, my old manager at Eastgate. One day at work, when I was 16 or 17, I was up in the ceiling for some reason and I snuck over to her office, ripped off a ceiling tile and snapped a picture of her confused face. It was less than a year later that I quit that job, right before she was about to fire me for theft. Debbie started working at the theater about a year after I did and had a hard time dealing with all the craziness that went on there. Soon after she began working there, she posted up this hilarious list of rules that included "no setting off fireworks inside the building" and "no skateboarding while working at the concession." You'd think she would just fire me for doing retarded stuff like that. Or she should get fired for not being able to approach me directly for my retardedness.
By the time I left, I kind of hated her. And when she started being a douche to my friend (who we'll call Andrea) I really had it in for her. So Andrea quit her job, then me and Andrea began doing really horrible things to her. Since we still had friends at the theater, we got to hear about her reactions to our horribleness. I'll do this in list format:
- Did my first credit card fraud ever on her. Andrea was in training to work for an airline and her school's computer had real customer data in it, including credit card numbers. She gave me a printout of a customer and we giggled for hours as we ordered her crazy sexual items from the backs of porn magazines. Not long after that, a friend of mine from the theater told me that the items arrived, both at her home and at the theater, and she was a mixture of amused and really pissed off.
- Me and Andrea drove to her house while she was at work and shoved a piece of metal into her door lock, then superglued it. She got home at 3:00 a.m. that night, probably tired after a 12 hour work day. Instead of getting some much needed sleep, she had to drive out to a pay phone to call her apartment manager and the police. No idea how long she had to wait to get inside.
- We repeatedly did the same thing to her post office box so that she constantly had to wait at the counter just to get her mail. Hmmm, am I allowed to admit to fucking with someone's mail, even if it was 20 years ago?
- Chris Tomkinson drove me to the theater, then he went up to the box office and asked to use the rest room. Once inside, he went into a theater and walked out the back door, propping it open with a rock. Then I went into the theater, lit a giant smoke bomb and threw it into the middle of the crowd. Into an empty part of the crowd, of course. This caused the police to interrogate me a couple days later, and tell me to quit being a jerk to Debbie.
- Ordered shitloads of phone books to Debbie's work, PO Box and home. Most of them were charged to her own phone number, but after she successfully blocked her number from being billed for things like this, I started billing the theater for them and then just random people around the U.S.
- Plenty of prank calls, of course. Zak and I would often make prank calls to Debbie, but I can't remember any specifics. I know Zak loved to call the theater, even without me, and state my name as often as he could. He'd ask to have Brad Carter paged or say, "This is Brad Carter and I'd like to know if you're hiring right now." Or he'd just call and say, "Brad Carter Brad Carter Brad Carter Brad Carter" until they hung up. This went on for years after I quit my job there.
I'm certain there was tons more, but now I'm forgetting things. I need to chat with Andrea and see what else she remembers. I used to pull my car up to the pay phone in the Eastgate parking lot to use the phone all the time after I discovered red boxing and once she noticed me so she drove her car to the back of mine, presumably to write down my license plate number, and then drove away. I guess just in case anything happened to her. There were a few times that me and Chris Tomkinson made prank calls to the box office at the theater since it was right across the lot and we could see the employees, but it was never Debbie we talked to. We were just there to red box or to have BBS lines operator interrupted to boot off random users.
The reason I'm suddenly remembering all this is because Andrea happened across Debbie's Facebook account yesterday and told me about it. I requested Debbie as a friend, along with the note, "Let's be BEST friends!" but I've yet to hear anything back from her.
Eastgate is the theater where murd0c and I hacked their answering machine a few years back. It's also the theater that murd0c and Boston Joe called during the opening weekend of Matrix 2 and had two projectors stopped, pissing off about 600 customers when they turned on the lights and yelled that Brad Carter had an emergency phone call. A friend told me that a couple of the employees had serious plans to kick my ass for that. And then I guess my name went into a file of theirs when me and murd0c hacked the machine. I also heard that their calls were once forwarded to a cell phone during a 2600 meeting. That poor theater, they probably wish they'd never hired me.
