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So I’m working up to the grand-daddy of a story about poor/non-existent customer service in New York City. But first I need to speak on the amazingly bitter and vindictive woman who “sold” me two tickets to get into the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Being new to New York City and tearing through two years of savings in two months, I began asking people what a nice cheap date would be for my wife and I. Several people mentioned the Metropolitan Museum of Art since it was essentially “free”. So we set about figuring out how to get there and went on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

The Met is a gorgeous museum if you’ve never been. It’s a grand, Neoclassical structure that projects permanence and authority. We eagerly marched up the sweeping steps, confident and excited about what was to be a great afternoon.

The ticket line was long. And similar to many other experiences I’ve had in New York City, there were simply not enough ticket sellers, perhaps two for the whole museum. But we stood in line regardless, we had no other option.

So twenty minutes later we arrived at the front of the line. I requested 2 adult tickets and the woman working the register flatly said,

“That will be $40.”

“Forty dollars?” I said, “but I was told that you could get into the Met for essentially free! Isn’t there some way to get a discount or something? I’ve had three different people tell me this, how could they all have been wrong?”

“Sir, two adult admissions cost $40.”

“Well, I don’t have $40.”

She let out a long sigh and finally said with a huff,

“Well, you need to go see Customer Service then.”

So I marched back to the hectic Customer Service desk and finally spoke to an employee. She informed me that, no, the Met is not “free” per se, BUT, you can choose to donate as much or as little money as you’d like for your tickets. I reached into my pocket and felt a meager 4 pennies. I told her that all I had was 4 cents and she said that that was fine.

So I got back in line to “purchase” my tickets and waited another 20 minutes before I found myself standing in front of the same ticket seller (remember there were only two, I had a 50% chance to have to deal with her again). I looked at her and she looked back at me with a sardonic smile. We stood that way for an awkward moment before I realized that she wasn’t going to say anything. So I said yet again,

“I’d like two adult tickets please.”

She reached for the register and tapped a button twice without ever taking her eyes off of me and casually said,

“That will be $40 please.”

So now, I begin to realize that I this is some sort of sick game for her. I’m not sure from where she’s deriving the pleasure to keep this up, but she is deliberately making this difficult and her very gaze is some sort of challenge. It’s saying, “go ahead, try to get me to serve you, I’ve got all day, and I will make this as hard as possible.”

I looked back at her triumphantly and said,

“I’d like to donate 4 cents for my two adult tickets today!”

TRUMP! She sighed and kind of deflated back into her chair and angrily whipped out her open hand. I dropped the four pennies into her palm and she proceeded to do what I’ve only seen done in the movies. She stopped, looked at the pennies for several seconds, kind of tilted them as if to see them in a different light, looked back at me and then slammed them onto the counter top. She then counted them, one by one, with her eyes still locked with mine, at a rate of about 1 every 2 seconds. I was in utter disbelief. She huffed one more time and finally dropped two green buttons into my outstretched hand.

Total elapsed time to “purchase” two adult tickets into the Metropolitan Museum of Art? 1 hour. Cost of beating a vindictive New Yorker at her own game: Priceless.

Hans Erik
Content Marketing Director
Hans@Next2Friends.com
www.Next2Friends.com