(The Army National Guard Field Band is holding a concert in my town, and as some students from my school are playing with them, the band director says that he will get a bus for those who want to go and aren’t playing. I go, along with some of my friends. Throughout the concert, I make comments to the girl next to me about how the music is really good, and at one point, the audience is invited to sing along. After that part of the concert is intermission, and I stand up to go to the bathroom.)

Older Woman: *two rows behind me* “Excuse me, young man. How old are you?”

Me: “I’m seventeen.”

Older Woman: “Well, you don’t act like it. All of that talking that you do — you can’t sit still through anything, can you?”

Man Sitting Next To Me: “At his age, I wasn’t able to sit through anything, either. How about you grow up and stop trying to parent other people’s children?”

(If it wasn’t for that man, I probably would have lost my temper and yelled at her. She didn’t say anything else and walked off in the opposite direction. I thanked the man, and I learned that he was in the Marines. After the concert, I made sure to shake his hand and thank him for his service.)

(I’m an usher at a local arena. I’ve been looking forward to this concert, and I really want to work an aisle.)

Head Usher: “[My Name], you’re working [aisle], [Coworker #1], you’re working [not an aisle]…”

Coworker #1: “Does anybody working an aisle want to trade spots with me? I’d like to work an aisle.”

Head Usher: “[Coworker], please stop talking. I’m assigning the rest of the locations.”

Coworker #1: “I was just trying to help in case anybody wants to work [not an aisle]!”

Head Usher: “You’ll work where you’re assigned.”

Coworker #1: “Well, maybe I’ll just leave!”

(The head usher finishes assigning locations, and we get in place. I’m working with [Coworker #2].)

Coworker #2: “I don’t really like this band.”

Me: “Different tastes. I really like them, but I’d never be able to afford a ticket. I’m glad I’ll have a chance to see them.”

(The head usher comes up.)

Head Usher: “[My Name], can you work [not an aisle]?”

(I figure that [Coworker #1] made good on her threat to walk out, and I know somebody has to cover the position.)

Me: “Sure.”

Head Usher: “Okay. [Coworker #1], you can work here.”

(Now I feel like a prize chump. Still, it’s a job before it’s a chance to see the show, and at least I can listen. This doesn’t stop me from stewing about it, and imagining all sorts of cutting remarks to use on [Coworker #1]. After the show, [Coworker #1] comes up to me.)

Coworker #1: “[My Name], I’m sorry! I didn’t know you wanted to see the show, too!”

Me: “Well, that’s the way it goes in this job. I work where I’m assigned, and I don’t always get to see what I want to. Of course, I’m a professional.”

(I walked away.)

(I work in a pretty well-known concert venue. I get all sorts of calls that make very little sense to me, but this one really sticks with me.)

Me: “[Venue]. This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Caller: “I purchased tickets for [Show]; they’re standing-up tickets. Does that mean I’ll be standing up?”

(For most show we sell mezzanine seats or general admission – “Standing Room Only.”)

Me: “You purchased SRO tickets?”

Caller: “Yes, I’ve got standing-up tickets. Does that mean I’ll be standing up for the show?”

Me: “Yes, SRO tickets mean standing.”

Caller: “So, there aren’t seats for standing-up tickets?”

Me: “No, they are standing room.”

(I work as a security guard, mostly at concerts, and tonight I am stationed at a VIP section. The way it’s set up, there is only one entrance/exit, and I am standing right in front of it. A patron approaches me.)

Patron: “Hi. Can I go in there?”

Me: “Do you have a VIP pass?”

Patron: “Uh, is this it?”

(She shows me the standard entry pass, which is a wristband that says the name of the concert on it.)

Me: “No, that’s a standard entry pass.”

Patron: “Okay, great!”

(She begins to walk past me, and I stop her.)

Me: “Miss, you can’t go in until you show me a VIP pass.”

Patron: “But I just did show you my pass!”

Me: “No, ma’am, you showed me your entry pass to get into [Concert], not a VIP pass.”

Patron: “This is ridiculous! I paid good money to get in this place, and now you’re f****** telling me I can’t go into VIP?”

Me: “Yup.”

(She screamed her lungs out and proceeded to kick several bins over and yell at random people. Do people really not know what “VIP” means?)

(It is a policy at our venue that if you buy tickets online and pick them up in the box office, you must show the purchaser’s ID or the credit card they used, even if they are not present. “So-and-so said I could have their tickets,” is not a valid excuse.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m picking up tickets for [Buyer].”

Me: “Okay, can I see your ID?”

Customer: “Oh, that’s not me. He’s not coming, so he said I could have the tickets.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I need to see [Buyer]’s ID or his credit card in order to give you his tickets.”

Customer: “No, it’s okay; he gave me permission. Here, it’s written right here.”

(He hands me a folded piece of paper through the ticket slot. I open it to find a printed screenshot of an email, the right half of which is cut off so I can’t even read the whole message.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but this doesn’t really tell me anything. I can’t let you have those tickets without an ID.”

(I hand him the paper back through the window.)

Customer: *getting angry* “Look, if you’ll just read it, it says right here. He is letting me have his tickets because he can’t make it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I have no way of knowing who that email is from or who it is addressed to, and half of it is cut off.”

Customer: *trying to shove the paper back through the window* “Just read it! It says right here!”

Me: “I can’t accept this. You’ll need to get his ID or credit card, or I can’t give you the tickets.”

(He snatches the paper back without a word. I watch as he goes over to the venue entrance and waves the paper in the poor ticket-taker’s face until a manager shows up. The manager takes a look for himself, says something to the customer, and then disappears around the corner and comes into the box office.)

Manager: “Let him have the tickets. That paper is bulls***, but I know the guy who bought the tickets, and I know he ended up not being able to come.”

(I find the tickets and hand them to the customer.)

Customer: “There, see? If you had just read the email this would have been so much easier!”