Week 13 entry...
Last fall, a friend pinged me to ask "Hey, I have a chance to buy four World Series tickets in a special advance pool being held! Sadly, I'm going to be cruising at 37,000 feet when the tickets go on sale. Would you mind trying to get them for me if I send you all the pertinent details and info?"
He did a quick rundown of the deal, and it seemed pretty straightforward. Log in to the special website at the appointed time and wait to see if you get selected to have a chance to place an order. If so, select your tickets, pay for them, and bam! -- you've got World Series tickets. (Well, sort of -- this was before the post-season had even begun, so really you were buying some really expensive pixels that would magically turn into World Series tickets if the team won a couple of other playoff series first.)
"Sure," I said. "How hard could it be?"
By this time in my life, I should just know that any time I end up saying or even thinking that phrase, I should just run away as fast as I can in the other direction... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
So my friend sent me all the pertinent information I'd need -- the emails regarding the special sale, with the website address and super secret special codes, along with his credit card and address details. Well, if nothing else, I'll order myself some DVDs and a pizza or something, I joked to myself as I filed away his card information.
A few days later, as the Blessed Window of Ticket Opportunity drew near, I grabbed a Coke Zero and settled in to pull up the website about ten minutes ahead of time.
"404 Page Not Found"
I notice Apprehension suddenly sitting right next to me, opening one sleepy eye at the error message. I was pretty sure I had the address right, so I try it again. Same result. Apprehension's other eye opened.
Ah, there it is, I think as I spot the problem. My keyboard's 'i' key had been sticking lately, and sure enough, it had dropped a character from the address. With the missing letter inserted properly, the page loads just fine. Apprehension falls back into its slumber and I calmly sit and wait the remaining five or six minutes.
After a few final page refreshes, the screen updates from the "Sale has not yet begun" style message to a page where I could select the correct sale opportunity and enter my secret code. I do so, and soon see a "You have now been placed in the waiting room" message instead. The screen now tells me that it will refresh itself every 20 seconds until I am granted a chance to purchase tickets (assuming, of course, that I am actually selected).
So I watch to make sure the page was auto-refreshing (it is), and I lean back my chair to keep an eye on it. A few minutes pass. I start doodling on a notepad. Another minute or two go by. I think of a few things to add to the grocery list, and so I hop up to grab that. Just as I finish adding 'crackers' and 'kleenex' to the list, the page suddenly changes. I push my list aside and start to read.
"Congratulations! You've been granted the opportunity to purchase four (4) World Series Tickets! Due to the high demand for these tickets, you will only have a short period of time to select and complete the purchase of your tickets."
Makes sense, I think. It's not like they're going to give you an hour to poke around at your leisure.
"Each page of the process will display how long you will have to complete that page and move on to the next. If you don't complete any page within the allotted time, your opportunity to purchase tickets will be lost."
Apprehension pops its eyes open and picks up its head to look at the screen.
"Are you ready to begin? You have two minutes to make your selection: Yes, begin | No, I do not wish to purchase."
Hastily, I click that Yes button. Apprehension looks at me as if to say You could have done that a little quicker, you know.
The next page is some sort of disclaimer of some kind that I have three minutes to read and accept. I skip the reading part and just accept the damn thing. I hope I didn't just sign him up a lifetime subscription to the Unique Chicken of the Month club or something. His apartment's pretty small.
Then, finally, I see a page where I can select what type of tickets I want. Not the 'goodness' of the tickets, so to speak, but for which of the four games that would be played at the home venue (if it went a full seven games). Did I want four tickets to one game? Two tickets to two games? Two to the first one, one to the second, one to the sixth? I have another three minutes to make my selection.
I quickly check the printout of my friend's instructional email, to verify that he wants two tickets each to Game 1 and Game 2. Where is it, where did he say that, I think as I scan. A tapping sound tells me Apprehension is clicking his nails and I see him motioning at the screen for me to hurry up.
I find the listing of ticket/game preferences (I had it right) and so I make the appropriate choice with 90 seconds to spare. The next page now wants me select what type of tickets I want to buy. Since you can make actual individual seat selections if you want here, it tells me I have a whole six minutes to complete this screen. But my friend simply wants 'Best available seats', regardless of the cost, and lo and behold, there is a little ticky box labeled exactly that. I thumb my nose at the six-minute thing as I click Next after only 30 seconds or so.
"You have 2 minutes to review your selection and confirm. You will not be able to make any changes to your selections after this point."
No problem, I think. I click on through and pat Apprehension gently on the head and smile.
As expected the next screen now wants name, address, and phone type information, and it wanted it within three minutes. Easy, I think as I shuffle through my pile. I printed that out right.... right over... where the hell is it?!
Apprehension is bowled right over onto his ass as Panic comes barreling onto the scene.
I must have forgotten to print it, holy shit, I think. OK, OK, don't worry. Open the email, sort the folder, ignore Panic climbing up onto the monitor, find the right email, no not that one, christ where is it, OK here we go.
Correct email located, I quickly type in his address details, his phone number, and other similar information and press Next. Red text tells me I've forgotten to enter his name. I laugh at my silliness in forgetting that simple detail as I scroll back up to the Name field and click in it.
I stop laughing as I completely draw a blank on what the hell his name is. Seriously, it's like my brain just shut right off and hopped a jet to Mexico or something. It's a good thirty seconds before I remember and get it typed in correctly and click the Next button again. Apprehension and Panic are now standing on either side of my keyboard, pointing animatedly at the screen and chittering to each other.
The next page finally wants the payment details, and it wants them in only two minutes. I know that I just saw that page in the stack when I was looking for the address information, and so I try my best to ignore the squeaking of my little friends as I flip through the papers. Yes, here it is, right here.
I carefully fill in the 16 digits and double check them. I carefully fill in the expiration date and double check it. I carefully fill in the three digit security code and-... wait, shit, the printer ink smudged on the last number, is that an '8' or a '3'?
Full-On Anxiety Attack sweeps down, lands on my shoulder, and starts directing the other two in some sort of chant for me to hurry the hell up.
Shit, shit, shit, I repeat to myself as I again flick through my windows to the email folder. Panic leaps up to wipe my sweating brow. I thank him and pull up the email from which I printed the other information. I scan down the page -- there, it's a '3'. I tab back to the other window, freak out as Apprehension points to the timer showing 20 seconds, and fill in the number.
After a quick double-check and with about 10 seconds to spare, I click Next. The page churns for a while, which is nice company for my stomach, which has been doing that for the last several minutes. Apprehension, Panic, and Full-On Anxiety Attack are now holding hands as if in prayer while they wait with me.
"Success! You have purchased the following four tickets for the World Series, should this team make it to the event. You may print your tickets or..."
I stop reading once I realize that all has gone well and let my head drop back as I stare dazedly up at the ceiling. My three little friends pat my shoulder gently and nudge my Coke Zero closer to my hand. As they begin to fade back into their realm, I ask them to make me a promise.
Next time you see me thinking about agreeing to something while thinking 'how hard could it be?' -- promise me you'll come and hit me in the head with a brick repeatedly until I run away.
They promise that they will. I wave goodbye to them and collapse in exhaustion onto my couch, where I finally fall into a fitful sleep and dream of timers and alarm clocks and red countdown text...
This is my entry for the thirteenth week of therealljidol. The prompt/topic this week was 'inside baseball'. As always, thanks for reading.
And my friend's team not only made it to the World Series, they won it -- he is a San Francisco Giants fan. ;)