Reminiscence Ric Stories

It was a cloudy and overcast day. The last performance of the Sideshow had ended in an almighty punch up between the audience and the Chief Clown, so Branchet had been tasked with increasing security.
    Branchet proudly entered the small Sideshow office, accompanied by the Tattooed Lady and the Ticket Collector. She was going to source their opinion before putting her ideas to the Ringmaster.
    “You are going to love what I’ve done,” said Branchet.
    “That’s highly unlikely,” said the Tattooed Lady. “I haven’t loved anything you’ve done since you shaved your beard off. You should have kept it. In these non-binary gender fluid times in which we live, a bearded lady could have increased ticket sales enormously.”
    “I’m glad you mentioned ticket sales,” said Branchet, “that’s one of the tasks I’ve made simpler.” She sat down and logged into the computer.
    “It already seems pretty simple,” said the Ticket Collector, “they buy a ticket, give it to me, I rip it in half and give it back to them. What could be simpler?”
    “Barcodes,” said Branchet.
    “You what?” asked the Ticket Collector, “Are you swearing?”
    “You will be in a minute,” said the Tattooed Lady.
    “Paper tickets,” said Branchet, “I mean, seriously, what century are we in? People can book their tickets online, pay for them online, and yet we still insist on these tiny little pieces of paper to get through the door. They can’t even print them out themselves.”
    “That’s my job,” said the Ticket Collector. “They present me with a complete ticket, saying the date and time of the performance, I rip it in half and then should they go out for any reason, they show me their half so I can let them back in.”
    “Which would be fine if this was 1950,” said Branchet, “But you remember the punch up last night, what caused it?”
    “The Chief Clown called someone an ugly fat…” began the Tattooed Lady.
    “Exactly!” Branchet cut her off. “And why?”
    “They’d lost their half of the ticket,” said the Ticket Collector. “If they ever had one in the first place. I didn’t recognise them.”
    “My point exactly!” said Branchet. “Which is why: barcodes!”
    “She’s saying that word again!” said the Ticket Collector.
    “So with a simple rejig of the booking system, now once people pay they get a barcode which they then show to you on their phone.”
    “I can’t rip someone’s phone in half,” said the Ticket Collector.
    “I bet you could,” said the Tattooed Lady.
    “I’m sure I could,” said the Ticket Collector, “but then what do we do with the other half? With paper you just recycle. No, it’d increase our landfill and the Ringmaster would never go for that, let’s abandon this whole idea.”
    Branchet sighed. “You scan their phone with a barcode reader, you don’t even need to touch it.”
    “Half of my job is ripping tickets in half,” said the Ticket Collector, “and if this is a ploy to reduce my wages…!”
    “Some of them will probably print them out at home,” said Branchet, “and bring the printout to you, then once you’ve scanned it you can rip away.”
    “I’m in the middle now,” said the Ticket Collector. “Not as against it as I was, but still not completely won over.”
    “Excellent,” said Branchet, “and after a few weeks trial, I’m sure you’ll come over completely.”
    “There’s just one thing I can see causing trouble,” said the Tattooed Lady.
    “What’s that?” asked Branchet.
    “This barcode reader – would that be an app or a new piece of kit?”
    “For legal scrutiny it has to be a dedicated device,” said Branchet, “should any court cases arise, a simple app on a phone would not be inadmissible.”
    The Tattooed Lady smiled. “I can’t see either the Ringmaster or the Chief Clown forking out for a new piece of kit just to read barcodes when they’ve got the Ticket Collector here who does the job for them at less than half the price.”
    “But what about the fights?” asked Branchet. “The Chief Clown didn’t look over the moon when she received that black eye.”
    “No,” agreed the Tattooed Lady, “but she was certainly pleased as punch giving one back to them. And when she knocked out that old granny who was just asking when the last bus was, she was in heaven. As I see it, she’s happy to have a punch up, just so long as we are legally covered.”
    “So what are you saying?” asked Branchet.
    “Keep the barcodes but get rid of the barcode reader. Let the Ticket Collector do her thing. She’s good at that. Have the date and time and all that next to the barcode and make it a condition of sale that they have to print it out themselves so that she can rip it in half or suffer the consequences. They’re much likely to go for that as it adds no additional costs to the Sideshow.”
    The Tattooed Lady did a little dance. “Teamwork, you see. Your ideas plus my brainpower means there’s nothing we can’t overcome.”
    “What else have you come up with?” asked the Ticket Collector.
    “Plus size bouncers,” said Branchet. “We take our two biggest members and let them patrol the area. The idea of getting on the wrong side of them will hopefully reduce the number of incidents.”
    “What about when they’re needed on stage?” asked the Ticket Collector. “Who’s going to patrol the area then?”
    “You could replace them for those six minutes with the two smallest members of the Sideshow,” said the Tattooed Lady. “You could call it Skinny Skinny Plus Plus.”
    “Or just go for the next biggest,” said Branchet. “This isn’t a heist movie. We don’t want anyone to work out the routine. Have an inside man who can tell them when the biggest people are on the stage so they know they only have the smallest person to push past. We’ll stick to my original plan.”
   Branchet then outlined a further seventy two new procedures. Later that day she presented her report to the Ringmaster and the Chief Clown. They agreed on the tickets, naturally without the barcode reader, and seven more of the proposals, including the plus size bouncers and a mandatory urine test for anyone who spends more than ten minutes in the toilets. With a partial victory under her belt, Branchet went to the pub and on her return was refused entry under her new scheme and had to spend the night in the graveyard.