Online ReporterYour Money, Your Call
Cresencia Marjorie Chiremba
THERE is a special kind of excitement that comes with an impromptu movie date.
You are not just buying a ticket — you are buying an escape, shared laughter, a plot twist and maybe even a popcorn-fuelled memory.
That is what my sister and her husband were after when they decided to catch a film at a cinema in the capital recently.
They were running a bit late, but still hopeful they could catch something worthwhile.
As they reached the counter, slightly breathless but still smiling, they asked the cashier a simple question: “Which movie has just started?” It was a fair ask.
They didn’t want to walk into a film halfway through and spend the next hour trying to piece together who betrayed whom, or why the villain had a limp and a vendetta.
The cashier, without blinking, pointed them to a screening that had “just begun”.
Grateful, they paid, grabbed their tickets and hurried in.
What they found, however, was not the beginning of a cinematic journey, but the tail end of one.
The credits were practically warming up backstage.
The movie had about 20 minutes left. 20. Out of what was likely a 90-minute feature.
They sat through the final scenes, bewildered.
The climax made no sense, the characters were strangers and the emotional payoff was like being handed a slice of cake after missing the entire birthday party.
When the lights came on, they walked out still trying to make sense of what they had just watched — or, rather, what they hadn’t.
They returned to the counter, not to cause a scene, but to at least get some clarity.
Maybe there had been a mix-up.
Maybe the cashier had misunderstood. But there she was, standing behind the glass, wearing a smile that said everything and nothing at once.
Not the kind of smile that apologises.
Not the kind that says, “Let me fix this.”
No. It was the kind of smile you give when you know you have done someone wrong but hope they will let it slide.
And that is what stung the most.
Not the wasted money.
Not even the missed movie.
But the quiet, casual way in which their experience had been dismissed.
That smile — guilty, indifferent and unbothered was the final scene in a story that never really got to start.
It’s a small incident, yes, but it is also a snapshot of something bigger.
In a city where customer service often feels like a gamble, this was another reminder that the basics — honesty, attentiveness and a little care — are still too often missing from the script.
What would it have taken to turn this around? A glance at the screening schedule.
A simple, “That one is almost done, but there is another one starting soon.”
Or even, “You might have missed the beginning, but it’s up to you.”
Instead, they were nudged, knowingly, into a dead end.
And then smiled at.
That smile, in many ways, is the problem.
It’s the shrug of accountability.
The silent “ah well” that too often replaces real service in our public spaces.
It is the reason customers walk away feeling duped, not valued.
We can laugh about it now because, really, what else can you do?
But it is also a reminder that service is not just about transactions.
It is about trust and the small moments where someone could choose to do better … and yet they don’t.
During the festive season, cinemas, restaurants and shops fill up with eager customers, let this be a gentle nudge to those behind the counters: people remember how you made them feel.
They remember the warmth, honesty, effort and the smirks, too.
So here is to better service, clearer communication and fewer endings that come before the story has even begun.
Because when we show up ready to enjoy the full experience, the least we deserve is to be let in before the credits roll.
Cresencia Marjorie Chiremba is a marketing, sales and customer service consultant. For suggestions and training, contact her at [email protected] or +263 712 979 461 / 0719 978 335 / 0772 978 335.
