Thinking outside the octagon

I started working at The Octagon box office in 1992 to help fund a social life during my degree. It was originally maternity cover, but it’s been almost 16 years – I don’t think she’s coming back. The job has changed over time – initially we had a paper seating plan for each performance and as a customer booked we’d cross that seat out and tear a ticket out from a book. Computers make it a little easier these days, and at least we know where you should be sitting if you lose your ticket. Now that I am Head of Customer Service, I line manage all the ‘front-line’ or customer-facing staff and deal with all customer comments and complaints. I am constantly surprised (and even more surprised at my ability to still be surprised) at the lengths customers believe an organisation should go to in order to please them.

Obviously, we place a great deal of emphasis on ensuring the highest standards of customer care (we’d like you to come back… again and again, please). Calls to the ticket office are answered by a real person and we discuss the customer’s seating requirements thoroughly. We don’t charge an arm and a leg in transaction and card fees, in fact we don’t have any such charges at all. Yet there are always those who expect that little bit more: there are the times you are expected to be psychic – “How long will it take me to get to the Theatre from my house, love?” Sometimes the notion that a show is sold out except for a few single seats dotted around the auditorium is just too impossible to comprehend – “Can’t you could just ask people to move up / shuffle around a little? I need two together!”
These elements of customer expectation haven’t changed a great deal over the years and are a delight most of the time, as they make the job the fun it is. What has changed, however, is the expectation of a more personal service. A lady telephoned the ticket office recently and the conversation went something like this: “I had tickets to come and see ‘Spring and Port Wine’, but I forgot to come.” “Oh dear, I am sorry,” I replied.” How can I help?” “Well, I have tickets to come and see ‘Meet the Mukherjees’ on Thursday.” “OK, how can I help?” “Can you call me, to remind me?” She was utterly shocked to hear that the answer was no. Surely this was a service we could offer?
There are those who insist on you swearing so that they know exactly how many swear words will feature on stage and what they are – hints are not enough. There are those who are lonely and want a chat, those who show you photos of their cats, and those who believe they are the only customer you’ll have to deal with and will expect you to put all your systems and processes to one side to accommodate them. I will always spend two afternoons a week on the ticket office counter to ensure that I stay up to date with all of our customers’ thoughts and expectations – and because I wouldn’t miss these priceless moments for the world.