Bad handwriting costs lives

Joan sends me an email about a MSO concert I've paid for.

The MSO box office could not hold the tickets for us for more than a day so I've passed the Saturday concert tickets to Nick. Watch out for him at Hamer Hall. Nick, I suggest that you hang around the ground level until about 7:45 PM. After that, just leave the tickets at the box officewith people's names so that they can pick them up if they're running late.

So, I turn up at 7:45 PM (another story involving CityLink and the wrong freeway exit). As I walk into Hamer Hall, I meet Nick and he tells me he's just dropped my ticket off to the box office.

Fair enough. So I turn up to the office and ask if there's anyone who's dropped off tickets. No, no tickets have been dropped off. Funny, I've just talked to someone who just did. Nick has meanwhile entered the hall about 10 minutes before the start.

I decide to hassle. "Are you sure you don't have any tickets for Wayne Yeap?" "No, nobody has dropped off any tickets." I regurgitate some more details, and the lady eventually goes back and pulls out a ticket. Written on the back of the ticket is the name "Wayne Teap". Oh, it's a spelling problem. Someone's handwriting probably wasn't up to scratch.

It takes a bit of work to extract the ticket from the ticket lady, but I eventually manage, with under five minutes to go before the concert starts.

As I'm about to leave the box office, our friend the ticket lady mentions in passing, "I hope nobody else named Wayne Teap comes along and asks to claim a ticket."

The Motel.

Night shifts.

Okay, I did a 4pm 'till midnight shift at the plant, so I needed a motel to lay me down to sleep. The company (finally) arranged accomodation for me at about 4pm too.

About 7pm, I thought, hmm, maybe nobody will be awake to let me into the motel. So, call up the motel, and the nice man arranges to put my keys in the box outside the door. Well, okay, that sounds reasonable.

So I turn up at 12:30am. Looks like the right motel. The name's right. The location's right. There's a box there, but it's empty.

1am, still looking for anything resembling a box. I'm just about to give up. I fold back the back seat in the car and lie down. Then an idea comes to me. I use my mobile to call the number on the billboard on the front.

Eventually, a nice old man comes out in a dressing gown comes out apologetically and hands me my keys.

Something tells me I should have been a bit more annoyed than I was, but for some reason I was in a very happy mood that night.

1:30 am, I go to sleep.