100th post on here

Everyone (by everyone I mean you 10 people) knows I work in a concert box office, right? UCP Chicago Presents. We mostly do all that boring classical music stuff everyone seems to like running past on the radio station, but occasionally we hit it up the hip end and sell tickets for people like...James Schamus.

Anyhow, it's a box office. That means we sell tickets.

Unfortunately, I was not genetically manufactured to sell tickets, which could hinder the process since, well, we sell...tickets.

In fact, I suck at selling tickets. Every blessed time I have taken a ticket order, I have turned cherry-tomato red, even over the phone, I have stumbled over words, I have had to ask people to spell their names 5 times, and I have done every other inane thing possible under the sun. I have taken 2 successful ticket orders so far:

1. When my roommates came in and bought tickets for the James Schamus event. They are my ROOMMATES. They have seen me in my underwear and have seen me barf into a toilet. It's not possible to be embarassed in front of them.
2. When someone called in and I made it through without ONCE screwing up the order of the steps, but then I later found out the tickets I sold her were supposed to be for my bosses.

Whoopsie daisies.

Today, after yet another failed ticket order where I managed to charge $5 for a ticket instead of $11, my boss left to go to a meeting and I sat there actually pondering how stupid it would be to start crying over ticket orders. Believe me, at that moment, it didn't seem like such a stupid idea. Then I just sat up and started stuffing envelopes, hoping the phone wouldn't ring for the rest of the day. I'm not too good for business.

Make me stuff envelopes with my feet while filing with my ears and printing out address labels with stamps, just don't make me take a godforsaken ticket order that would make money for the office.

I came up with a list of excuses I could use for each screwed up ticket order I am going to take.

• "Hi, Mrs. Hymen? Sorry I charged you $20,000 for your ticket, I just performed a lobotomy on myself with a dirty fork."
• "Hello Mr. Broch, I know I accidentally have you sitting on the roof, but my dog was run over by a truck this morning."
• "Oh, oops, sorry sir, you wanted the concert in February and not next year? It's been so hard to use the computer mouse since I've burned my hand saving that one baby in my dorm building."
• "How do you spell your name again? I've had trouble hearing since I've gotten mugged and beaten with a club."
• "Oh, it's 4288 not 4590? Sorry about that, my 4-alpha-hydroxyphenylpyruvate hydroxylase deficiency is acting up again."