Confessions of a Box Office Manager: when an upgrade goes wrong

Our (almost) hit show isn't full tonight. Don't get me wrong, it's nowhere near empty either but it has now settled into a comfortable routine of selling out at weekends while leaving us with a couple of hundred open seats per night at midweek performances. It's enough to keep the show running for the foreseeable future but it does mean that we have room for manoeuvre in the event of people needing to change their seats or, preferably, a party of 300 exquisitely behaved but highly enthusiastic theatre-crazed teetotallers descending upon us at the last moment in search of first class entertainment. As long as they don't all want to pay with separate credit cards.

Unfortunately this aforementioned, and much longed-for, group have failed to materialise yet again -they're probably all in the returns queue for Harry Potter, good luck with THAT- and in order to fill a few gaps, myself and my colleagues have selectively moved a couple of patrons forward. We only do this fairly late in the day as obviously we want to maximise revenue but on the other hand having large pockets of empty seats is demoralising for the cast, and sucks the atmosphere right out of the auditorium. Also, realistically, not that many fabulously wealthy people tend to be stalking the Avenue of Shaftesbury and its environs in the hour before showtime, dying to plunk down their platinum cards in exchange for half a dozen of our priciest front Stalls.

Who gets moved forward (or down, if they had originally bought Balcony or Upper Circle) boils down to any number of factors. Some people are just so damn nice when they're picking up their tickets that it is an absolute pleasure to make their evening out a bit more special. I'd love to be able to tell you that being as hot as, say, Ryan Gosling or Penelope Crúz would have no bearing on your likelihood of a seating upgrade…but I won't insult your intelligence. Having empty seats in accessible locations is also helpful when you get older or less able-bodied patrons who've booked themselves in upstairs without realising that there would be 50 steps to negotiate.

Sometimes customers offer to pay to upgrade and even then they end up paying, in total, a lot less than the face value price of the seats they end up in.

Rapping on the counter and bellowing "OI! Any chance of a free upgrade??!!" won't get you into the Premium seats, and (probably) neither will sob stories about how it's your wedding anniversary/21st Birthday/commemoration of pet dog's death… Actually, these last three could possibly work, depending on what kind of a day the box office clerk has had, and how polite and/or good a liar you are.

Anyway, right now I have an aggrieved customer at the counter, waving a fistful of tickets at me like it's a paper knuckleduster, and screaming "£130 bloody quid I paid for these! And that's EACH! Not in TOTAL!"

"Yes, the Premium seats, yes….." I rejoinder, trying not to look bewildered.

"ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY POUNDS! EACH!" he repeats, presumably in case I'd missed it the first time.

"Well, you are in the best seats in the house….."

"YES!" he seethes through the glass, his eyes getting wider by the second, "they are VERY GOOD SEATS INDEED!" (Curiously, this fact seems to be making him MORE furious, not less…)

"So…?"

"So why the HELL has the family sitting in our row only paid £35? WHY?!"

Oh bugger it, I think I know where this is going.

"Um, how do you know that they only paid that?"

"Because they bloody TOLD me! As soon as they sat down!"

Great, just great. You try and do something nice for people and this happens. I always try and impress on Box Office staff that, when re-allocating seats, they should discreetly ask patrons not to broadcast to their neighbouring audience members that they've just got a cheeky upgrade. Otherwise, situations like this occur, and nobody is happy. Well…..nobody except the jammy so-and-so's who are now ensconced in the front Stalls.

"Possibly they bought their tickets through an agency who were able to get them a deal?" I lie, feeling rotten, "sometimes there are special offers available online. How did you book YOUR tickets?"

"ONLINE!" he thunders.

"Oh….."

"…..and I paid £130….."

"Yes, well you are in £130 seats and there's literally no better location in the auditorium for watching the show." (He's not budging, despite the fact that the pre-performance bells are now sounding with tinnitus-inducing frequency.) "Did you buy your tickets on the theatre's website?"

"Yes. For a hundred…."

"Yes I know, a hundred and thirty pounds each. You see, there are never any discounts booking in advance through us." (This is a fact.) "So to be sure of getting that exact location, buying tickets online, you could only have paid that price." (Also a fact.)

He considers this a moment before muttering "it seems unfair though doesn't it?"

"I completely understand what you're saying" (I do actually) "but I can't be 100% sure of why these people paid significantly less than you did without seeing their tickets" (oh yes I can).

"I see."

"The show is about to start, sir" (the Duty Manager is hovering behind him with a 'what the hell's going on' look on her face.)

"Right, well….er….I'm not very happy. I'm not happy at all actually. But they ARE very VERY good seats."

"Yes they are wonderful. I hope you enjoy the performance."

Moments later he's gone, the Manager gives clearance, the show gets under way. I check the onscreen plan and sure enough the seats next to the ones this man's are set to the code we use to denote a reseat. I just hope he enjoys Act One so much that he forgets to engage in further conversation with his neighbours, otherwise I may well be receiving a strongly worded email. Well, it IS a great show……and, hey, nobody died.

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