MASTER OF TICKETS

I went to a concert not long ago at the Vic theater in Chicago. Saw the band Live live, which actually sounds kind of funny to say, but wouldn’t be as funny as saying I saw the Counting Crows counting crows, Train train, the Spin Doctors spin doctors, or – heaven forbid – the Pet Shop Boys pet shop boys.

Anyhow, I remember being inside the theater, looking down at my ticket, and discovering a $7.00 “convenience” fee had been tacked onto the price of admission. Seven dollars for convenience? And that, like every other injustice in my extremely narrow world of rules, got me thinking. What exactly was this fee all about and what conveniences did it get me?

Our beer wasn’t conveniently cheaper, or any easier to get. To get in, we still had to stand in a long line outside the theater like everyone else, getting felt up by “security” in leather pants. It was a general admission show, so we weren’t guaranteed seats, or even an unobstructed view. Parking was extra…if you could find it. There weren’t reserved restrooms for our convenience. And the tickets themselves weren’t delivered overnight, or printed out from the convenience of home. They had been sent snail mail, third fucking class, and arrived just a couple days before the show - which would NOT have been terribly convenient had I been planning to sell them.

As far as I could tell, that seven dollar “convenience” charge afforded me no conveniences at all…aside from the fact that it got me in the door – which is what an admission ticket is SUPPOSED to do. It made me want to get a refund on that seven dollars.

“Excuse me – hi – yeah, I’ve decided I don’t really need this convenience thing, whatever it is. So if you guys could just refund me that $7, that would be great.”

“Huh? Oh, that – we don’t have anything to do with that. It’s just part of the price.”

“Oh – well see, MY ticket actually has a separate number right here for the price. See? It's $35.50. And then there’s a separate charge right here for taxes, which I understand. I mean, I wish the taxes were just included in the price instead of always tacked on as an afterthought, but at least I understand what they are. This convenience charge here is the one I don’t want. So if you could refund that portion, I’ll just head back in.”

“I don’t think we can do that. Everybody pays that. It’s just part of the cost of the show.”

“Well, then I’m missing something. Because I thought this line over HERE was the cost of the show. This convenience thing is itemized – so, to me, it appears to be something extra, and I don’t want it…whatever it is. I don’t mind inconvenience – I’m actually quite used to it. I know I may be sorry later, but $7 is a lot for convenience. Don’t you think? That's the cost of a pint of beer in there.”

“You’re kidding with me, right? Do you know Kyle? This is a joke.”

“No, not really. Beers are six dollars, and then I usually tip a buck so I don’t look cheap.”

“Not about the beer. I mean about the charge. You really want seven dollars back?”

“Unless you can tell me or show me what I’m getting for those seven dollars, I would really like the seven dollars back – yes.”

“I don’t know. I mean I really don’t know what that is for. I just work here. No one has ever complained about it before, or asked for their money back.”

“Well, it’s not like fifty cents or some trivial amount of spare change. It’s seven bucks. That’s like a whole hour of your time. But I understand…there’s nothing you can do about it. I just wish the ticket would just say $42.50 instead of $35.50, since that seems to be the actual price of admission. Itemizing this phantom fee and calling it a convenience makes me feel like my wallet is getting fucked by the master of tickets himself. And there's nothing remotely convenient about that. Convenient would be you handing me seven dollars since you can't tell me what the hell the charge is for.”

"Maybe I should get the house manager."

"That's okay - I don't want to inconvenience you."

***********

The whole episode reminded me of a woman I was standing in line behind at the bank last week. A bank teller had just informed her that there would be a “convenience” charge for them to count her bag of loose change in the bank’s fancy coin-counting machine, to which she loudly responded:

“Sheeeeeeeee-it. I don’t know why they call this the land of the free when ain’t nothin’ free no more – least not round here.”

Land of the free. Nice.

Not exactly what that phrase is supposed to mean – but in that moment, I felt her point. Ain't nothin' free in the land of the free.