Windswept at the 9:30 Club
A unique ticket-buying experience, to say the least...
One weekday afternoon, despite a bad cold and a heavy workload, I decided to stop by the 9:30 Club to buy some concert tickets. It’s a short metro ride from work and generally a small price to pay to avoid the steep service fees when ordering tickets online. When I arrived, the ticket booth gal said the credit card machine was down and, though someone was trying to fix it—a professional I’d presume—it could be a while and she asked that I pay in cash.
She benevolently allowed me to use the club’s ATM, so I took out $120 to add to the $40 already in my wallet. I requested a total of five tickets, divided among two shows, and she said the total was $130. I carefully counted $140 and handed it to her. She then said I only gave her $120. Impossible, as I correctly had $20 left in my wallet, which had held $160. She insisted she’d counted properly, so I begrudgingly forked over my last $20.
As I walked away with my tickets, it occurred to me I was now out $20, plus the ATM’s $3 service fee, and my round-trip metro cards, and it would’ve been cheaper to pay the annoying online service fees. Back at my office, I called the club’s manager who said that if the drawer was over at the end of the day, he would let me know. He did call back that night and said there was no extra money when they cashed out. He then offered the most fascinating explanation as to what might have happened. He said there is sometimes a wind tunnel by that ticket window and perhaps my last $20 got sucked in.
A wind tunnel? How very “Being John Malkovich.” Perhaps my money entered this portal and deposited itself on the Jersey Turnpike. I feel justice might truly be served if some homeless guy would discover this secret portal that, by now, probably would have enough money sucked into it to give the guy a down payment on a house.
Am I bitter? A little. I’m a huge fan of this club, its music, and its excellent beer selection and it would’ve been a nice gesture if they had offered me a small token of appreciation for my long-time patronage, perhaps a spot on the guest list to a future show. Such a gesture might have helped erase the inconvenience of that day. Granted, I hadn’t even suggested this perk. I’m the kind of person who hopes for the occasional favor or kind gesture, but never asks for it. And, unlike the Malkovich portal, there was no way the club’s manager could get inside my mind to know that’s what I wanted out of this incident.
Should you find yourself buying tickets in cash at the 9:30 Club, I’d suggest asking the salesperson to count the bills right in front of you to prevent any potential discrepancy.
And, if you ever find this mysterious portal, presumably if there’s a floor 7 ½ , do let me know as there’s a $20 bill in there with my name on it.
My plight got picked up by the Washington City Paper! Read about it here (scroll down to "Winds of Change.")
One weekday afternoon, despite a bad cold and a heavy workload, I decided to stop by the 9:30 Club to buy some concert tickets. It’s a short metro ride from work and generally a small price to pay to avoid the steep service fees when ordering tickets online. When I arrived, the ticket booth gal said the credit card machine was down and, though someone was trying to fix it—a professional I’d presume—it could be a while and she asked that I pay in cash.
She benevolently allowed me to use the club’s ATM, so I took out $120 to add to the $40 already in my wallet. I requested a total of five tickets, divided among two shows, and she said the total was $130. I carefully counted $140 and handed it to her. She then said I only gave her $120. Impossible, as I correctly had $20 left in my wallet, which had held $160. She insisted she’d counted properly, so I begrudgingly forked over my last $20.
As I walked away with my tickets, it occurred to me I was now out $20, plus the ATM’s $3 service fee, and my round-trip metro cards, and it would’ve been cheaper to pay the annoying online service fees. Back at my office, I called the club’s manager who said that if the drawer was over at the end of the day, he would let me know. He did call back that night and said there was no extra money when they cashed out. He then offered the most fascinating explanation as to what might have happened. He said there is sometimes a wind tunnel by that ticket window and perhaps my last $20 got sucked in.
A wind tunnel? How very “Being John Malkovich.” Perhaps my money entered this portal and deposited itself on the Jersey Turnpike. I feel justice might truly be served if some homeless guy would discover this secret portal that, by now, probably would have enough money sucked into it to give the guy a down payment on a house.
Am I bitter? A little. I’m a huge fan of this club, its music, and its excellent beer selection and it would’ve been a nice gesture if they had offered me a small token of appreciation for my long-time patronage, perhaps a spot on the guest list to a future show. Such a gesture might have helped erase the inconvenience of that day. Granted, I hadn’t even suggested this perk. I’m the kind of person who hopes for the occasional favor or kind gesture, but never asks for it. And, unlike the Malkovich portal, there was no way the club’s manager could get inside my mind to know that’s what I wanted out of this incident.
Should you find yourself buying tickets in cash at the 9:30 Club, I’d suggest asking the salesperson to count the bills right in front of you to prevent any potential discrepancy.
And, if you ever find this mysterious portal, presumably if there’s a floor 7 ½ , do let me know as there’s a $20 bill in there with my name on it.
My plight got picked up by the Washington City Paper! Read about it here (scroll down to "Winds of Change.")
posted by Dana @ 11:06 AM
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