Confessions of a Box Office Manager: a terrible case of mistaken identity

Well, there's no turning back now, I'm afraid. I've made my metaphorical bed and I'm going to have to lie in it. My box office colleagues are no help whatsoever, one having got wind of what's going on – and subsequently barricaded himself in the back office from whence I can hear him howling, gasping for breath and moaning "Oh God, this is classic" – while the other is bent double underneath her desk, silently laughing so hard that she is in danger of gagging into the waste paper bin at any moment. (I won't forget this supportive behaviour when I'm doing next month's rota, no I will not.)

Look, I reckon this could happen to anybody. Or at least anybody who works with the general public and is attempting to do several different things at once. OK?! Probably the worst thing however, is that the 'customer' on the other side of the glass has started to realise what's happening. Luckily though, to judge by the grin starting to play upon her utterly perfect mouth, she can appreciate the funny side of it.

To backtrack a couple of (agonising) minutes: the foyer doors had swung open and a somewhat familiar figure started across the foyer towards me. As I was, at that moment, up to my eyeballs in an agency sales report, I couldn't immediately place her but I had a vague recollection of seeing her on a dance floor somewhere recently surrounded by bumping-and-grinding revellers. So, I surmised quickly, she is a friend-of-a-friend and probably somebody to whom I had suggested, in an alcohol-fuelled moment of bonhomie whilst out clubbing, that she popped in to see me at work if she was ever passing.

"HELLO!" I had bellowed, over-compensating for my sudden inability to remember her damn name and whether or not I'd promised I would give her a cheeky deal on seats for the show (oh come on, we've all done it), "how ARE you? SO lovely to SEE you!"

(Come on, think! What was her name again?!)

She paused, smiled – yes I remember that winning smile, I'd know it anywhere – and responded "Well, hello to you too!"

There then followed an awkward pause while we both grinned inanely at each other from opposite sides of the glass, and for some unaccountable reason I felt my colleague's eyes boring into me from the next desk.

"Were you after seats? For the show?" I finally added, lest she be under the misapprehension that I was about to flog her a timeshare apartment or a used car.

"Actually, I'm picking up some tickets……"

"Yes, so you are…"

"Er….yes, yes I am."

"Right. Good. No, not good, GREAT! Yes that's great, that really is, um, great."

At that point my unidentifiable friend started to look a tad nervous but I didn't get to dwell on that for long as I was distracted by a bizarre, gurgling sound to my left. I glanced round to see my colleague apparently choking on her cup of tea, with tears pouring down her cheeks. All very strange, quite frankly. I decided to ignore her.

"So, er….the tickets will be in your name, will they?" (Which is? WHICH IS?!!)

"I would hope so, yes."

Reluctantly I hoisted myself out of my seat and headed over to our large filing cabinet at the back, cheerily calling over my shoulder "just getting them for you. Won't be a second. As I said, it really is SO LOVELY to see you!"

I stood vacantly in front of the cabinet, forlornly grabbing at random envelopes hoping that the names on one of them would ring a bell.

"No, that's not you. No, not that one either. Nor that. Oh dear" I babbled away, like a flaming idiot. A sweaty one. My other colleague appeared at my side, with a look of barely suppressed hysteria all over his smug features.

"Need any help here, do you?"

"No thank you, I'm absolutely fine." I snapped back, graciously, "Go and do something useful." He flounced into the back office, slammed the door behind him and started yelping with all-too-audible hilarity.

(What the hell is her name?!)

It's no good, I can't style this out any longer. I'm going to have to ask her, thereby possibly causing enormous offense and nipping our embryonic friendship right in the bud.

"I'm so sorry, but just remind me of your n-…"

And then the penny drops. I don't know this woman, I've never met her before in my life. That mental picture I have of her in a club alongside a host of beautiful people didn't actually happen. Well, not in my unglamorously humdrum life it didn't anyway. No, I'd just seen it on the telly. In a pop video. HER bloody pop video. The reason why she looks so familiar is because she is a walloping great big pop diva.

I can feel my face going the colour of a vine-ripened tomato while my sweat glands suddenly morph into geysers.

She and I both say her name at the exact same time, and then I repeat it back to her in a weak monotone, just in case she didn't get first time that I am a complete idiot. From underneath the desk I can hear my colleague moaning with mirth and I resist the temptation to surreptitiously kick the metal bin she has currently got her head in.

With as much nonchalance as I can muster, I wander to the back, grab the tickets and return with them.

"I'm sorry about that, I thought that I knew, um, oh well, never mind." (Smooth work.)

She winks and grins "yes I was sort of getting that", and then she blows a kiss, waves, turns on her heel and walks out, stopping the gentleman just entering the foyer in his starstruck tracks.

My colleague appears from the depths, looking dishevelled and dabbing at her eyes. "Well this is so going on Facebook" she chortles, annoyingly.

At this point the door behind us opens and the other clerk returns, warbling one of our recent visitor's biggest hits. The pair of them dissolve in hysterics. Once again, I decide that ignoring them is the best policy, and anyway one of us three has to do some work. The gentleman who just arrived has come to my window.

"NAME?!" I shriek at him, rudely. "I'm so sorry, I mean, how can I help you?"

"Wasn't that…?" he points vaguely behind him at the still swinging door to the street.

"I have no idea, I'm afraid. Now, how may I help?" (I wonder if my colour has returned to normal yet?)

So…I feel like an absolute fool. But I console myself with the thought that she probably gets fed up with people fawning all over her all the time. Was probably nice for her to be treated like a normal person for once. Yeah I'm sure it was. And anyway, hey, nobody died.

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