The False Economy Of Bargain Hunting
This is a story about the perils of dealing with third-party online ticket booking platforms, poor customer service, my irrational desire to hunt down bargains, and using writing as therapy.
I’m typing with angry fingers. Typing sentences about angry-fingers-typing makes me smile, so the therapeutic aspect of writing is at play. I still need my somewhat petty anger and frustration to be displayed in the rest of the story, so i’ll make sure not to let it all of that anger out too quickly.
It’s a story about Dave and Mildred, you’ll meet them shortly.
It’s a story about saving $20. Sort of.
I’m a value shopper. If there is a potential bargain to be found, just let me loose and I will chase down rabbit holes across the vast expanses of the Internet looking for it.
It’s not that I am a tight ass, I am happy to pay for value. It is the fact that I want to make sure that I am getting the most out of every dollar.
But financially it is a relatively poor utilisation of my time, spending minutes, sometimes hours, digging around looking for a few more dollars off. I could be performing more value-add activities. I’m aware of this.
It is not just a money thing though, it is also about the hunt. Finding a hidden discount code for a couple of dollars off is like winning a prize, almost like a shitty side hustle, especially when the original price was already reasonable. It is the cherry on top. And prizes taste mighty sweet.
Online shopping bargains often come with a certain level of additional risk. We may be swayed to use different providers, using different systems, in order to make our purchases.
In the vast majority of occasions it works out just fine. We may even find that we love the new alternative better than the original.
But other times we are left licking our wounds, wondering why we took the risk and didn’t just pay the extra $20. I really need to adjust my values and remind myself that sometimes you can pay money to reduce stress.
We should probably start with the backstory.
I’m soon to take a holiday, to Melbourne, Australia. Not the best time to visit Melbourne, considering it is the middle of winter. But do you know when is the best time to take a holiday? Now. The answer is always a resounding “now”.
And when we go for a holiday one thing we like to do is visit places. On the list for this holiday are the Melbourne Aquarium (because all kids love aquariums), and the Old Melbourne Gaol (no, that’s not a typo, it is how we spell “jail” in Australia. We are complete animals.)
I’m a planner, which goes hand-in-hand with bargain shopping, so prefer to purchase my tickets in advance. Pre-purchased tickets and time slots allows for my itinerary to be mapped out, almost to the hour. The thought of an hour-by-hour plan is heaven for some, hell for others. Either way, this is my story, and it is how I roll.
Never one to pay the sticker price without finding out if there is a discount on offer, I find a “Melbourne Pass” available via a large ticket booking platform. You know the type of platform, they sell tickets for every venue under the sun, along with transport and accommodation too if you need it. The Melbourne Pass has a “2 venue” option, and on the list are both venues I need, the giant fish bowl along with the former house of criminals. Perfect!
I’ve never purchased one of these multi-venue passes before, so am somewhat wary. The site itself is reputable, but I don’t quite understand the purchasing process. Reading through a few product reviews, combined with the allure of saving $20, I am sold. A few simple clicks and the pass is purchased.
With the generic pass purchased it is now a case of redeeming the specific venues required. I begin clicking through.
Although I have passes for multiple people, the system allows me to only book a single person at a time. I believe I can see a risk in this situation already. What if I am halfway through and then there is no further availability?
The dance begins.
Let’s begin with the Melbourne Gaol.
Date selected. Time selected. Available. Click click. Done.
Date selected. Time selected. Available. Click click. Another one done.
Repeat the process.
Time consuming, more-so than it needed to be, but we got there successfully.
And now on to the aquarium.
Date selected. Time selected. Available. Click click. Done.
Date selected. Time selected. Available. Click click. Another one done.
The final ticket. Date selected. Time selected. Click the availability button. The screen refreshes. My stomach sinks. I’ve never hated the color grey more than in this moment. Greyed out. Unavailable. No soup for you.
I’m now trapped with half a family visiting the aquarium.
I’m a problem solver, so I enter problem-solving mode.
How much will the separate tickets cost if I need to get a refund and re-buy them directly? To find out I first head to the Aquarium website, who have availability on the day I need, about 20% more than what I paid. The site that I purchased from must have only been allocated a limited number of tickets for that day. We now have an option.
Then off to the gaol website, who have availability on …hang on. The gaol AREN’T EVEN OPEN on the day that I booked tickets for. The day that was available, and confirmed, on the ticket booking platform.
So now I have one venue where part of the family will be waiting outside by the curb. And the second venue which I have tickets for, on a day when it isn’t even open.
Let’s step back and think about the sheer luck of how the events have played out.
Things could have been worse.
What would have happened if I successfully booked that last aquarium ticket? I wouldn’t have gone back to check on the gaol website.
I would have gone on my merry way, proud of the $20 saved. Ticked this shopping adventure off as another Internet shopping victory. I would have been on a bargain-hunting high, right up until the day of my booking. I would have turned up at the Melbourne Gaol, printed-out tickets in hand, smile on my face. I would have commented about how quiet it was, about what an excellent day I had chosen to visit. But then, rounding the corner and approaching the sandstone behemoth, the entryway would have presented itself. Those cold steel bars. Closed. Mocking me.
So yes, it could have been worse. Wasted time when operating on a tight holiday schedule is much worse.
Perspective.
We now enter the land of “web chat” functionality, the little box that pops up in the bottom right corner of your screen, where you can chat with a real person. Phone lines and talking are so old fashioned, and instead, technology has blessed us with the ability to converse one line of text at a time. Almost like sending morse code. You don’t want to send too much message at any one time, for fear of part of the message being lost in translation, so instead we write a line, then wait for a line in reply. Then pray that at the end of 5 minutes of conversing they have understood your question and not mysteriously dropped out.
My first new acquaintance on web chat, we’ll name him Dave, must have decided that I was too difficult a customer. I politely explained my problem in detail, we went back and forth a few times as though it was a tennis rally. Off Dave went to investigate a little more and then came back with a completely incorrect answer which disregarded my key problems. Dave’s incorrect answer ended with “Please let me know if there is anything else I can help you with”, followed by an automated message notifying that the chat was about to be closed due to inactivity. I furiously begin typing a brief response to Dave, but it was all too late. The web chat session was closed. I’m no slouch when it comes to typing, I had the chat window open the whole time, I was waiting with anticipation for Dave to reply. This one was intentional, I had been dumped. Don’t be like Dave.
I’ve worked in a customer service environment before, I know how the game works. Targets that need to be hit in any way possible. “Tick and flick” is wjat we used to call it, back in the day.
Dave, if you are reading this, mate, it still hurts.
Back into the queue I go. Only a minute wait. That’s a short wait to receive poor customer service, i’ll need to give them a few stars for that.
Things with my second acquaintance on web chat start off better, we’ll name her Mildred. Mildred genuinely seemed to want to help. I provide the backstory again, painful line by painful line. “The ticket is valid for a year, so you can just use it on a different day”, Mildred suggest with a tone of sincere optimism. I believe, that Mildred believes, that she has solved the problem. I can sense that Mildred’s virtual hand is extended, she is awaiting her high five and about to ask if I would mind completing a quick survey about by customer service experience.
For me though, I am left baffled, as I needed to select a specific date and time at the time of booking. I let Mildred down gently. I politely explain that going on a different date is of no use to me. I will be in Melbourne for a short stay, only a few days. Mildred, I already have commitments on my other days, I can’t attend on a different date.
Mildred’s response is one that I sense is flooded with dejection. At was at this point that I suspect she knew that there was no incoming high five. Her hand slowly retreating back to her side.
It is at this point that I believe Mildred also mentally placed me into the too hard basket. Disappointing, as Mildred had glimmers of hope, at least more so than Dave. Don’t be like Dave.
I need to tread very carefully with Mildred now. I know what will happen if I push her too far. She’ll ditch me. Just like Dave.
Mildred asks for evidence of my flight details, to prove that I wouldn’t be in Melbourne for more than the few days that I originally stated. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking back over all of those times when I have made up little white lies along the lines of “oh, I have a flight”, and gotten away with it. It is often necessary to weave these types of white lies into conversation in order to get an outcome, as the truth is more complicated, and I don’t feel like typing out an essay over web chat, painful line by painful line.
But in this case, my story is 100% truthful. “Glad I didn’t lie about that one!” was my exact thought. I didn’t want Mildred to think of me as a liar.
Flight evidence provided, Mildred tells me that she has now sent this information to a supervisor. And then the golden question, the customer service playbook closure-line, “is there anything else that I can help you with?”.
And now what, Mildred, you’re going to just dump me like that? What are the next steps? No case number? When am I going to hear back?
I spend another minute teasing out these details.
I leave the chat session. Mildred no longer playing an active role in my life.
24 to 48 hours to let my anger stew.
I need to get outside. Get away from the computer screen. I need to feel the fresh air.
I need to put my anger into perspective.
It is outside in the fresh air that I reach a state of semi-clarity, and a realisation.
There is a story in this!
My mind eases, as I begin writing in my mind. I laugh at my own jokes. This is going to work out.
I go on with my day. A little shopping. Dinner. Some television. Blood pressure back to normal.
But then there was an update.
It had only been a few hours. Great! This company are actually OK and have quickly found the error in their ways.
Sadly, no.
Instead it was a largely confusing response, requiring a few passes of the eyes to make sure that I had not misread. One line stuck out, the one where they suggested that I should be doing my own due diligence and confirming with the venue directly that they would be open on my desired date, rather than relying on their website.
Their website, the website which promotes itself as being the best place to find and book activities. The same website which includes an “Availability” button to instantly confirm whether or not the dates you want are available.
Apparently I should have disregarded these features completely.
So no, they won’t give me a refund. I’ve “redeemed” part of my Melbourne Pass. It is non-refundable.
Well under 30 minutes between making my purchase and informing their support of my problems. Irrelevant
The fact that their booking platform showed avaibility on a day that the venue was not open. Irrelevant, as I could “just use the ticket on a different day”.
Disbelief.
We all have our limits. We’ve been rational, polite, reasonable, for so long and realize that others just aren’t playing by the same rules.
We just say “f*** it, I am done”.
Time for the “Karen card”. I respond requesting that this be escalated to a supervisor.
But there was a silver lining to this latest communication from my web booking platform friends.
And the silver lining has nothing to do with fixing my ticket booking problem. The silver lining is that my blood once again began to boil. My angry fingers stirred back to life. You see, only moments prior to receiving this latest communication from the assigned “Customer Experience Specialist”, I had been preparing to go to bed. But now I had the renewed vigour to type 2000 words, with passion.
And by the end of those words I was once again smiling.
Talking about your problems, writing about them, can do that. It is therapy.
And what was the real cost of this adventure?
That saving, of somewhere around $20, cost me an hour on web chat liasing with Dave and Mildred. Then more time reading and responding to the follow-up email.
There is the old line of “how much value do you place on your time?”. You could place a dollar value on it equal to what you would normally earn at a “day job”, but that’s not realistic. It isn’t realistic for most people to pick up an extra hour of paid work at their day job whenever they feel like it. Nor do I feel like doing that on the weekend.
Instead this was a waste of my Sunday afternoon time. I missed out on mindless YouTube browsing, I missed out on arguments with strangers on Reddit, I missed out on relaxing on the couch.
But even more so than the wasted time, the real cost in this situation has been the unnecessary stress. Hours of being angry, frustrated, and thinking about the situation, rather than having a free mind to focus on a relaxing Sunday. It put me in a bad mood.
If the tickets were booked directly with the venues I am almost certain that there wouldn’t have been a problem. That part of my itinerary would be locked in, I could move on.
I’d imagine that the vast majority of these multi-venue passes are purchased and redeemed successfully. But this was my first time buying a pass of this type.
Beginner’s luck, I guess.
The end result? I don’t know yet. I’ll find out in another 24–48 hours.
“How I Paid $20 For A Medium Story” would have been a better, more clickbait-worthy, title.
And please, don’t be like Dave.
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