"I Want My £11 Back."
I’m a little depressed by the number of people who opted for a refund as a result of the
change to Thursday’s scheduled Mostly Comedy line-up, as it serves to
illustrate how many come these days for a specific name.
The substitution's a suitable one, with Richard Herring appearing in place of James Acaster. If anything, Richard’s a bigger name in terms of longevity, and while he admittedly played the club twice last year he’s always hugely popular here. That’s not to say he isn’t still, as a sizeable percentage snapped up tickets that had returned to sale once the change was announced, but no sooner were they bought than more refunds were processed, leaving us with a costly stalemate.
We wouldn’t normally be in a position where we’d need to offer money back, as we seldom advertise events with a headliner. The fact we present mixed bills and always state our line-ups may be subject to change would normally protect us; the only reason we’re in this pickle is because the other act appearing can't be unannounced due to touring commitments, so despite stating all along there'll be another secret TV comic on the bill, we have to offer a refund because we can't say who, despite the fact the line-up’s identical save a single (and excellent) substitution.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful as I’m well aware how lucky we are the club has the interest it does (the speed with which the Harry Hill & Simon Munnery date sold over the weekend is a case in point), but the work that goes in to organising it is often disproportionate to what you get out, particularly when you may wind up unable to afford to pay myself, despite putting in extra time to fill the gap and promote the change. It’s also frustrating to budget a night on the basis of a specific line-up to watch that profit disappear due to the lack of time to promote a small change; if nothing else, I’ve learnt to never book an unannounced act again as you're back-footed before you start.
I’m sure this annoyance is probably transference from the stress of my dad being ill, but you don’t get a lot of thanks for the work you do. Of course no-one would have known, but I was dealing with tweets and emails from disappointed punters on Saturday (who had failed to snap up tickets for Harry Hill) after less than four hours sleep due to a situation that was nearly fatal, and half of the complainants didn’t even bother to start their emails with a simple hello; I hate the general public: they're gits.
The substitution's a suitable one, with Richard Herring appearing in place of James Acaster. If anything, Richard’s a bigger name in terms of longevity, and while he admittedly played the club twice last year he’s always hugely popular here. That’s not to say he isn’t still, as a sizeable percentage snapped up tickets that had returned to sale once the change was announced, but no sooner were they bought than more refunds were processed, leaving us with a costly stalemate.
We wouldn’t normally be in a position where we’d need to offer money back, as we seldom advertise events with a headliner. The fact we present mixed bills and always state our line-ups may be subject to change would normally protect us; the only reason we’re in this pickle is because the other act appearing can't be unannounced due to touring commitments, so despite stating all along there'll be another secret TV comic on the bill, we have to offer a refund because we can't say who, despite the fact the line-up’s identical save a single (and excellent) substitution.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful as I’m well aware how lucky we are the club has the interest it does (the speed with which the Harry Hill & Simon Munnery date sold over the weekend is a case in point), but the work that goes in to organising it is often disproportionate to what you get out, particularly when you may wind up unable to afford to pay myself, despite putting in extra time to fill the gap and promote the change. It’s also frustrating to budget a night on the basis of a specific line-up to watch that profit disappear due to the lack of time to promote a small change; if nothing else, I’ve learnt to never book an unannounced act again as you're back-footed before you start.
I’m sure this annoyance is probably transference from the stress of my dad being ill, but you don’t get a lot of thanks for the work you do. Of course no-one would have known, but I was dealing with tweets and emails from disappointed punters on Saturday (who had failed to snap up tickets for Harry Hill) after less than four hours sleep due to a situation that was nearly fatal, and half of the complainants didn’t even bother to start their emails with a simple hello; I hate the general public: they're gits.
