ticket exchange

Everything so surreal these days and we don’t even notice any longer. I recently exchanged a couple of symphony tickets. I remember days, long ago, when you'd walk up to a box office and hand the seated woman wearing a black sweater two tickets asking for an exchange. She'd reach behind her into a small cubby and pull out a stack of tickets held together with a thick rubber band. Flipping through them, she'd suggest a couple of locations and then take out the two you wanted and hand them to you. Then she'd take your tickets and fit them back into the stack for the date you were exchanging out of. The entire interaction took about 90 seconds.

No more. Now I walk up to the window, give the intern on the stool my tickets and tell him what I want. After about two minutes of fiddling with his computer he tells me why I have the tickets I have. “These are your regular subscription seats.” I smile and say OK, but I really don't care why I have these tickets, I just want to exchange them. Back to the computer for him: tap, tap, tap, tap -- vacant eyes staring into the computer screen. Finally he looks up at me and says "OK."

OK? I'm done? "yep." I walk away from the window. No tickets in my hand. No receipt. Nothing. The exchange has been made (I suppose). The interaction took over five minutes.

I have a distinct feeling of dis-ease. Do I have tickets? He tells me they'll come in the mail. The mail?