To Be or Not To Be - that is a Pencil

 

I booked tickets today for my daughter and I to go and see ‘Hamnet’. We’ve both read and enjoyed the book by Maggie O’Farrell, and are keeping our fingers crossed that the film, released today, will live up to all the hype and expectations. 

In the box office of my local festival centre, where the town’s tiny cinema is housed, I was served by one of the staff volunteers called Jacqui. Jacqui, it turned out, was easily distracted and what could have been a three minute transaction, turned into a ten minute mini-farce. Of course it did. 

Once I’d made my presence known by loudly opening my bag and clicking the fastener on my purse, and clearing my throat a little, Jacqui put down her pink highlighter pen, pushed aside the piece of Very Important Paper she was busy highlighting in pink and was immediately distracted into a conversation with one of the other staff volunteers, something about tripping over something in the box office environs, which they made Health and Safety jokes about. 

Once I had regained Jacqui’s attention, I said, ‘Two tickets for ‘Hamnet’, please.’

Jacqui tinkered on the computer screen and spun the monitor around so I could choose seats. 

‘Back row, end two seats, please,’ said I. And then, ‘Oh, that’s the booking page for ‘Hamlet’, not ‘Hamnet’.’

‘’Hamlet’?’ said Jacqui, looking immediately confused.

‘Yes,’ said I. ‘ ‘Hamlet’ is showing on 19th January and ‘Hamnet’ is showing on 23rd February. I don’t want to see ‘Hamlet’. I’ve seen it many times before and it makes me fall asleep. Ahahahahaha…’

Jacqui peered at the monitor. ‘They’re two different things?’ she said. Reader(s), I promise I did NOT role my eyes at this point.

‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Very different things.’

‘And you want ‘HamNET’ and not ‘HamLET’?’ said Jacqui.

‘Yes, please,’ said I.

‘Hang on a minute!’ said Jacqui, suddenly wild with animation. And she leapt from her seat and emerged from her box office station, and ran across the festival centre reception to where two elderly ladies were sitting, deep in conversation about Very Important Stuff.

‘Did you just buy tickets for ‘Hamnet’?’ said Jacqui to the two elderly ladies. ‘Was it ‘Hamnet’ you wanted? Or ‘Hamlet’?’

‘It wasn’t us who bought the tickets,’ said one of the elderly ladies. ‘It was our friend. She’s in the toilet.’

‘Did she want ‘Hamnet’ or ‘Hamlet’?’ said our intrepid Jacqui. ‘Only they’re different things.’ 

‘I don’t know,’ said the elderly. ‘Did she want ‘Hamnet’ or ‘Hamlet’?’ she said, consulting her elderly lady friend.

‘I think she wanted ‘Hamnet’,’ the elderly lady friend said. ‘I can go in and check. Or shall I ‘phone her?’ 

Given that the Ladies’ loo was literally right behind where they were sitting, I thought ‘phoning was a bit extreme when an enquiry over a cubicle door would have more than sufficed.

‘She’ll be out in a minute,’ said the first elderly lady. ‘I’ll ask her when she comes out.’

‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ said Jacqui. ‘I don’t want her to go to the wrong thing.’

Jacqui returned to her box office station, fiddled with the computer monitor and brought up the screen for ‘Hamnet’. 

‘Where would you like to sit?’ she said.

‘Back row, end two seats,’ said I, because why would I want to sit somewhere different because I would be watching ‘Hamnet’ and not ‘Hamlet’? 

‘Are your details on our booking system?’ said Jacqui.

‘Yes,’ said I, because I’ve previously bought tickets from the festival centre and once you are on a computer booking system, you are on there for life.

I gave my name.

‘Oh,’ said Jacqui. ‘You’re on there twice.’

‘Does it matter?’ said I, thinking that my dentist was only just around the corner and perhaps I should have gone for another round with the hygienist rather than put myself through this torture.

‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so,’ said Jacqui. ‘Have you booked tickets with us on-line before now?’

I confirmed that yes, indeed I had, but I prefer to come and book tickets in person as I resent paying an online booking fee for doing the work myself. 

‘That’ll be it then!’ said Jacqui, triumphantly. ‘The computer has added you once for booking in person and again when you booked online.’ 

Honestly, it was gripping stuff.

‘I’ll just choose one name and address,’ Jacqui continued, peering closely at the screen when I could see my details twice. And then she seemed to be deliberating which of the identical sets of details she should choose. ‘I’ll get them amalgamated,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to be in the system twice.’

Oh, that I had to be in there at all. Do you remember the good old days when you could go into a cinema and buy tickets without being quizzed about your name even, let alone your address, phone number and blood type? Okay, not your blood type, maybe, but honestly, do we need to give all these details just to buy a cinema ticket?? It’s data harvesting gone mad.

You’ll be pleased to know that the bit where I paid and got my tickets happened very quickly. I didn’t hang around to see if the trio of elderly ladies had booked the correct ‘Hamlet/Hamnet’ option. I was out of there quick as you like, and calmed my nerves by popping into a shop and purchasing a purple ring binder and refill writing pad. And two packets of fire lighters. 

On the way home, I thought it was all another example of how complicated life in 21st century has become. And that William Shakespeare, much as I love him, has a lot to answer for.