|WFT Hotline, c. 1993|
We also had "the books" which were plastic-covered, three-ring binders, one for each of the current season's shows. I took great pride in setting up "the books" as part of my summertime work-study gig. I'd decorate covers to insert into the plastic, label the sides neatly, and photocopy the reservation sheets onto three-hole-punched paper.
My best memories working at the Box Office are the days when the show was selling out and I didn't get to take the phone off my ear for my entire 4-hour shift. Just "clicking" over from one call to the next. "Wheelock Family Theatre. Please hold." When I was done, the whole side of my face was red and my ear was all cauliflowered, but I was completely jazzed from the frenetic pace of taking reservation after reservation. Reading printed directions from a small square of pink-highlighted paper taped to the desk. Explaining the weather-related cancellation policy. Reminding patrons not to park in the neighboring school's lot.
This was the early 90s. This was before the Internet, if you can believe such a time ever existed. This was when people actually called someone to make a theatre reservation and WFT printed its tickets on a deafeningly loud, dot matrix, spooled printer.
Living so far away and having not worked at The Theatre for nearly ten years, I actually have no idea what technology has done for the Box Office, but I have to believe that it's come a long way from the antiquated white "hotline." Still, there's nothing like a taking ticket orders for a show that people are just clamoring to see.
You should make some workstudy's day. Kick it old school. Call for some tickets. Maybe even pretend that you don't have a GPS and ask for directions, too.