Mastering Ticketmaster

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Published on Thursday, 22 September 2011 23:04

Written by Paul Varcoe

A little tale of trying to book tickets online from the experience of Paul Varcoe.

We decided (well, her indoors did) that me and my 3 year old son would go to the Villa game so I frenziedly jumped online to see what seats were available. I found two perfect ones in the Lower loft (families) on the end of the row near the front.

It’s not my ideal seats but when little varc gets bored and starts jumping around he won’t get in peoples way. I moved them to my basket to book, but couldn’t log in. Apparently my password was incorrect. So, I thought I would phone. 45 minutes later I was through to Ticketmaster. We went through all the pleasantries and a young lady who answered. I assume young and attractive, but I had that thought that despite her virtual image in my head, she was probably a munter. However, for now she was a babe, about to book my tickets. She went quiet.

“The tickets you have asked for are not available, sorry”.

“Really?” I said, “I just had them up online”. She replied that if they are in your basket they will not be visible to her and asked me to log out. So I logged out. Nope, still not there. She said, someone else must have booked them as I waited in the queue. So I asked what else was available, and somewhat surprisingly, all she came up with for 2 tickets together was 3 rows from the back! I politely said I would have to think about it and try again as I didn’t want to sit that far back.

So I hung up after over an hour and had another look online. They were back!! I tried to log in again and this time asked for my password to be re-sent. It didn’t come. Damn. I phoned up again immediately, this time, joyously, I was only waiting for 35 minutes. A different lady answered. She was a little younger sounding, and maybe because it was the second time, I pictured her differently. This time her image was more like the chubby little blonde student who nobody noticed, but in the right light with a nice smile, made your day. She was very polite and said she would have a look, but after a couple of minutes searching there was nothing there. I was losing my rag.

"How can this be"? I asked. Quite clearly the tickets were there and available. She suggested I tried online booking again and checked my details. When she checked, we discovered that my old email that had been hacked years ago was on the system, not my new one, so if I knew my password (which I did), I could just log in with that ID and get the box office to change it tomorrow.

"Brilliant" I said, cheerily wishing her a happy evening.

So, in a Genesis like moment, I turned it on again, entered my details and BINGO! I could move the chosen tickets (still available, as were 86 others in that block) into my basket under my name. I proceeded to checkout and read the fine print "All details including a receipt for your payment and proof of purchase so you can redeem your match tickets (the little fella has to prove he is 3 at the box office apparently) will be sent to your registered email address"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The only option was to see if they could change my email address now and not wait for the box office.

I logged out and jumped frustratedly on the phone… here we go again, back up to 40 minutes this time. Now, this wasn’t a conscious thought, and I know it’s a bad thing, but when the woman answered in a thick North American accent “Hiya! Welcome to the QPR box office by Ticketmaster. I hope you are having a fabulous day, how can I help you today?” I’ll bet you can imagine the 6ft Big Mac loving mutton dressed as lamb image in my head and the bubbling blood in my veins! I would have counted to 10 but she would doubtless have cut me off and another 40 minutes wait would have ensued.

I tried to be succinct and to the point, whilst showing her courtesy. I was half way through explaining that all I wanted her to do was change my email address… she interrupted.

“Ok honey (Grrrr), its ok, I have allsorts of tools at my disposal. I can do this for you”. I didn’t know whether to shout at her or collapse in desperation. I decided to be polite once more and allowed her to go through the 10 minute process. I named the seats with my upper teeth firmly implanted in my bottom lip, and waited…

“I’m so sorry Sir, but those tickets are not available on my system”. No kidding Dolly. And, if you had listened to me some 10 minutes ago, you could have saved your Yankee verbal diarrhoea for the next poor slave to the system. So,  I pointed out I had told her colleagues that’s what happened twice before. With the hairs on my neck tugging at my skin I readied myself to bombard her with insults about the ridiculous IT system she operates, when she quietly came back “why don’t I change your email address on the system, then when you do it online you can have the details sent to you?”.

I collapsed to the floor mumbling quietly… “yes please”. I said thank you and goodbye. She said “Thank you Mr Varcoe, is there anything else I can do for you today?” I replied ever more through my chomped lip in the negative. She hadn’t finished yet though. “well I hope you enjoy your evening, and if you should need anything else, please feel free to call me – have a wonderful evening”

I put the phone down, logged on, 2 minutes later, I had finally purchased the tickets that had yo-yoed in and out of my basket for 3 hours.

Oh, and to avoid any confusion, I’m sure all Ticketmaster staff are beautiful.

Now where’s my Twitter account, “Tony”, “Amit”…

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