Being a popcorn jockey is similar to bartending, but instead of alcohol you sling watered-down cola, overpriced chocolate and grease-soaked bags of popped kernels. Your world is a three-and-a-half foot space between your register and the popcorn warmers.

The job affords one the same cross-cut view of society that bartenders get, but without the unwritten requirement to offer advice or philosophical insights. At most you'll be suggesting a larger drink size. And nobody tips popcorn jockeys.

Being a popcorn jockey means driving home at night, alone, shell-shocked, smelling of butter, your white shirt stained yellow from oil and electric orange salt. It means that no matter how great your anticipation for Star Wars: Episode III you will fear opening night. Opening night is the apocalypse.

The only hope for a popcorn jockey is his/her co-workers. If you've got a good crew in the trenches, you'll be alright.

Unless the corn runs out...