Confessions of a Box Office Manager: Tackling the touts

"These are for you, are they?" I ask, sweetly.

"Yep" he smirks.

"All we have left now for tonight are premium seats, so for two that will be £190." (This is not 100% true. We do have one pair left at the lowest price but they offer an extremely restricted view and I am reasonably certain that this information will not be conveyed to the unsuspecting tourists for whom this delightful chap is procuring tickets, and also that they will be paying a ridiculously inflated price.)

"What? No! I want the cheapest! And I don't care where they… I mean I… sit."

Bingo! That confirms it. This oleaginous oik IS a rip-off merchant.

"Yes sir, I heard what you said but I'm afraid…". I don't get any further as he starts kissing his teeth, shoving his cash back into his blingtastic wallet and heading to the door, pausing just long enough to turn back and yell something at me that rhymes with that word that means a bet, or a flat-bottomed boat. Yes, yes that one. Utterly charming. I wave back blandly.

'It is horrible having to deal with people whose nights out have been ruined'

These people make my blood boil; the practise of buying inferior seats from the theatre Box Office and selling them on at a premium (and then some) prices from hastily erected booths near major tourist attractions is hardly new, but it is massively counterproductive and benefits nobody except the unscrupulous so-and-so's taking the unfortunate customers' money. The tourists pay well over the odds for inferior seating, and even if they complain on the night it is not always possible to reseat them if the show is sold out; this then reflects badly on the individual venue and the West End theatre industry as a whole, and could possibly deter them from buying tickets for anything else in the future.

Furthermore, as these outlets frequently look legitimate it is hard for the uninitiated to distinguish between them and the official ticket booths which offer a genuine, fair service, and are regulated by the Society Of London Theatre. When faced with a furious and/or tearful victim of this, I always ask if they were asked to pay upfront (the answer is invariably yes, and in cash only); if they were made aware of the exact location of their seats (they always answer no); and if they were told what the face value of the ticket would be (no, again). It is one of the aspects of the job I enjoy least as it is horrible having to deal with people whose nights out have been ruined. We try our best to spot touts and their "runners", but lamentably a few do get through the net, especially on hit shows.

I'm just reflecting on this when the door from the street swings open again and a youngish girl in a dirty leather jacket slopes in. As she approaches the Box Office, she reaches into her inner pocket and produces a wallet. My immediate reaction is that the wallet is familiar, and then I realise that it is the SAME wallet my previous visitor was brandishing (you never forget a luminous green faux leather effort with a multi-coloured bejewelled lizardy thing appliqué-ed onto it, do you?)

She produces a greasy looking £50 note and opens her mouth to speak.

I wearily put up a hand. "Just no. Okay?"

She closes her mouth, rolls her eyes and slopes back to the door, where she turns and calls me that word that rhymes with flat-bottomed boat again. Whatever.

So, I've made two new friends today, and I suspect there'll be a few more purchase attempts before curtain up. Not the most life-enhancing way to spend a day at work, but hopefully I've spared some tourists a bitter disappointment. And hey, nobody died.

Read more Confessions of a Box Office Manager