Confessions of a Box Office Manager – Facing the music when the star is sick

I barely have time to drag my eyes away from the TV listings, sorry… I mean the arts pages, before the newly torn down sign is thrust through the Box Office window at me.

"Have you seen THIS?!" an indignant voice enquires.

In a moment of great self-restraint, I manage to neither point out that yes of course I've seen it as I myself had stuck the flaming thing up barely 20 minutes earlier, nor to gape at it and cry "no! Why? Is it something lovely??"

Instead I make a few half-hearted attempts to grab the clearly offensive signage from the hand of the furious gent on the other side of the counter, although I am unsuccessful in this as he is shaking it about like a gun dog with an unexpectedly feisty rabbit.

So, I wait while he has his say: "I've paid top whack for tickets for this tonight. I cannot believe she is off! This is absolutely disgusting! This is my son's birthday treat! What am I going to tell my son? I don't care about seeing [insert AWOL leading player's name here] myself but my son is her biggest fan! This is his birthday basically ruined, this is! This will arrest his future development as a human being this will!"

'Staring at me as though I am personally restraining our beloved leading lady'

People can get fascinatingly hyperbolic when faced with the dreaded, "At This Performance The Role Of…" notice in the foyer and realise that the above-the-title star they paid to see is not appearing. For the most part, I genuinely sympathise; it is indeed disappointing and the situation is in no way improved by having a smirking box office clerk pointing out to you that "this is live theatre, not a film – people get sick in real life".

I'm certainly not going to use that line on the red-faced man who is now staring at me as though I am personally restraining our beloved leading lady from setting foot on that stage tonight.

Instead I give him the option of seeing this performance with the understudy, who really is rather good (in fact she's infinitely superior in the role, as well as being rather more age appropriate for it – miaow), or exchanging the tickets for another night when our star will undoubtedly be in better health, or sober, or something.

He opts for the former, helpfully pointing out that "well, we're here now", before declaring "I'm not the type of person who will disappoint a child" ("unlike our leading lady," I DON'T say) and fixing me with a glare which suggests that I, on the other hand, clearly spend much of my sorry life disappointing kids.

After he leaves, I check the coast is clear, come out of my box and put the understudy sign back on the foyer wall. I'm just settling back into my seat and eyeing my discarded newspaper when I see a very attractive young couple approaching. The man points at the notice and I brace myself: then the woman breaks into a gorgeous grin…

"Oh that's fantastic!" she says, "I can't stand her!"

There are some grumblings from other customers as they arrive for the performance, and I do feel sorry for the boy whose birthday treat is a bit tarnished by the absence of his favourite star, but that's live theatre. And anyway, the understudy really is better… and, hey, nobody died.