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Sold Out!
I love theatre and go pretty regularly, often with my fellow theatre-loving friend Babs. And although we’re both pretty savvy about ordering tickets, sometimes one or the other of us screws up, and the last time it was me. Here’s the embarrassing story.
For years Babs and I have shared a subscription to 59E59, a wonderful off-Broadway theatre company on East 59th Street whose mission is to bring new and innovative works to a New York audience. We usually love what we see there and were looking forward to the next production.
We checked our calendars and found a good mutual date. I wrote it in my little date book and told Babs it was my turn to call and reserve our tickets.
The next morning I phoned and got a recorded message saying the box office hadn’t opened yet and to call back after 12 noon. But apparently I got busy and forgot.
Then on the morning of the fateful day I called Babs to say I’d be driving down from Connecticut that afternoon. Rather than meet for dinner as we usually do before the theatre, I said the tickets would be at the box office and we should meet at the seats and have a bite after the show.
Unfortunately I hit bad traffic and called Babs again to say I might not make the 7:00 curtain, but would get there as soon as I could.
In fact it was close to 8:00 when I got to the theatre, walked through the empty lobby, and asked at the box office for my ticket. Hearing my name the guy at the window told me to wait a moment while he called the manager.
”Ah madam,” said the box office manager, “your friend said to tell you she left since we don’t have your tickets, and tonight’s performance is sold out.”
”But that’s impossible, we’ve had a 59E59 subscription for years, and I called weeks ago to reserve seats for tonight. I even have it written in my appointment book!”. I proclaimed angrily, taking the little book from my bag and practically thrusting it in his face.
”Yes, I understand that you’re long-time subscribers, and I see you noted it in your book,” he said with the practiced patience of a box office manager, “but it seems you never actually called to reserve tickets and unfortunately tonight we’re sold out.”
I realized of course he was right.
Embarrassed, I called Babs at home to apologize, afraid she’d be annoyed at me to say the least. Her husband Bernard answered.
“She’s not home”, he said, “isn’t she at the theater with you?”
I called her cell phone.
“No problem,” said my ever well-dressed friend Babs, “Bloomingdales is open late tonight.”
(I’m glad to say we saw the show a week later and it was great!)
– Dana Susan Lehrman
Dana Susan LehrmanThis retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!
www.WorldThruBrownEyes.com
