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Confessions of a Box Office Manager: Flogging a flop

It’s never easy when the show’s a stinker – especially if the punters don’t know

I really want to tell her to just buy the cheapest ticket and that she will definitely end up in a great seat. She has asked every question imaginable, bar the colour of the plush and the price of a fruit juice at the bar, and has made it abundantly clear that she is doing London On A Budget. She is very pleasant, and Lord knows I haven't got anything else to do at the moment, so I've been happy to answer every question patiently. Yet still she stands there puffing out her cheeks and squinting from seating plan to price list as though staring at them intensely enough will reveal the meaning of life. Or something.

Not to put too fine a point on it, this show is dying on its arse. Its predecessor had been a sell out and here in the Box Office we initially welcomed a bit of breathing space from the nightly battles of returns queues, ticket touts and double bookings. By now however, boredom has set in and morale is low, beaten down by constantly peering at the plan of an auditorium so empty that you could safely land a small plane in there without killing anybody.

The producer has taken to spending most of every day in the vicinity of the theatre – giving rise to the cruel rumour that he's losing so much money on this production that he can no longer afford his mortgage – and comes into the Box Office at least twice an hour to see if there have been "any improvements". Initially I smiled encouragingly and trundled out yet another variation on "I'm sure the doors will be better" or "it's the time of year really isn't it", but after about 30 repeat visits I just fix him with a glare and shake my head mournfully as soon as I see him approaching.

The play itself is execrable, and this is another problem for us on the front line. When the few customers that do come in ask "have you seen it? Is it any good?" it takes a huge effort of will to nod and tell them that yes it is absolutely worth spending their hard earned money on, when really one wants to bellow "run away! This show is not "Wicked", this show is Diabolical!" I can't take the lies and deceit anymore, so I've taken to telling people that I haven't actually seen it yet.

Another incident that made my face burn with shame recently was when a sweet American couple asked if the reviews had been good and I said they were "mixed". (Mixed?! They were borderline libellous!)

'The next show has already outsold this one despite the fact it doesn't start for three months'

In the very isolated instance of a patron buying a top price non-discounted seat, I've had to remind myself to keep cool and not to either burst into tears of gratitude, or just gape at them in amazement while enquiring if they're absolutely sure. It's pitiful how the mighty have fallen, when you consider that just two short months ago I regularly had hotel concierges offering sexual favours if they could only get their hands on a pair of my front Stalls.

So, my budget tourist friend has finally made her mind up. My staring manically at her while repeatedly intoning "which EVER price you go for, you'll see JUST FINE" has clearly paid off, as she has plumped for the second to bottom price. The look of glee on her face when I hand her a ticket for Stalls G row centre is lovely to see, and I just hope she's as enraptured when she gets here for the show later and realises that she is the only person in that row. Or the row in front. And the one behind.

After she leaves, the phone next to me rings; it's the House Manager checking on the size of the audience for this evening.

"So," he chortles, "are we into double figures?!" I give him a look that could freeze mercury, not that he can see it, and start totting up the occupied seats on the plan. Yes, I could pull a report to find out but this counting could end up being the most exciting part of my working day.

The cast are going to have to work hard for any laughs and applause tonight, and the front of house team will get to know each other better, since there'll be nobody else to talk to. This run is billed as a limited engagement (no kidding!) and the next show has already outsold this one despite the fact that it doesn't start for three months. From a Box Office point of view, it'll just be nice to have a steady flow of customers again. It turns out there is a finite amount of time you can spend surfing the net. Who knew?!

But hey… nobody died.

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