Sunday, March 21, 2010

This time, I'm giving the advice

In my line of work, I am often thrust into the role of disinterested ticket broker.

Someone gets a mass of tickets (usually from someone who owes him a favor), which are passed off to me for distribution. Tickets are dispersed in one of two ways: to fellow employees or to customers.

It, my friends, is the worst torture known to man.

Generally, when I’m handed tickets to an especially popular event, I get power hungry. Oh, the influence! Oh, how people will kiss my ass! I am drunk with power for approximately 20 minutes. Then I remember what a bloody pain ticket distribution is.

If I’m dealing with my coworkers, I send out an email. “I have just received a number of complimentary tickets to [insert event here]. Let me know if you’re interested in attending!” Actually, that’s pretty much what I do with customers, too. It’s just less likely that I’ll use the email as an the opportunity to make fun of Asshole Coworker (which I generally do in situations where I’m sending out an all staff email).

Anyway.

As far as free tickets go, people are incredibly predictable.

I have the Will Go To Anything Guy. Who wants tickets because they’re free.
I have the Bring The Whole Neighborhood Woman. Who wants 12 tickets. Always.
There are the Oh, Yes Please And Thank You, I Am Free That Evening folks who request tickets and don’t end up going.
And the High Maintenance Higherups, who won’t consider anything but a prime seat.
And The Grateful, Kind Ones. The people who use the tickets. Say thank you. And are generally awesome.

Ticketing is currently on my shit list because, at 2:00 on Thursday, I found out that we had two suites (read: 40 tickets) to an event on Friday night. My boss decided that we would offer the tickets up to staff members and that I would go to the event and be the SuiteBitch. I spent the next day coordinating tickets. Shuffling tickets from one person to another. Moving people from one suite to another because someone is in a fight with someone else about something. Fielding irritating questions about the quantity and quality of free food and alcohol that would be provided.

And then I spend my entire Friday night bouncing between those two suites. Smiling and pretending to be the gracious hostess. While listening to the occasional complaint. And tallying the no-shows. (And, to be honest, watching Meg’s friends go gaga over their first experience in a luxury box – which was legitimately fun and nice to do.)

My tender and affectionate readers, you always provide me with so much advice. I am going to provide you with some unsolicited advice. Because I can! (And also because I can’t think of a better way to wrap this up.)

The next time someone offers you tickets, ask yourself this: am I committed to going to this event? Is this event something that I really want to go to? Am I actually going to use these tickets for myself instead of pawning them off on Am I decent enough not to bitch about where my tickets are located or who I’m sitting by? Is the number of tickets I’m requesting necessary and appropriate? If you answer yes to all of these questions? Go for it. Free tickets fucking rule.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

i'm just going to assume since i continue to be offered free tickets that i fit into the "grateful, kind ones" category. last time (2 weeks ago) it was jimmy buffet. beyond fab!

my life is brilliant said...

That does sound torturous! I'd probably just keep responding with, "... at least it's free": "I'm sorry you think the pizza is subpar, but if it makes you feel better, at least it's free, right?"

 
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