The general premise for this post is: when I buy tickets for a concert which does not specify otherwise, I expect to get a seat.
Well, call me a fool. Two weekends ago it was not so.
Two weekends ago, me and a friend went to see Yann Tiersen, of Am̩lie fame, play at the West End Cultural Centre. And I suppose you could say I did get a seat Рon the floor.
Allow me to explain.
The Event
Oh seats, where did you go? WECC.
Like any concert I attend, I arrived early to get a good seat at the front. And like every other WECC concert I’ve attended, I expected that when the doors opened, I could walk through the lobby to the theatre and nab a seat.
At this show, however, we were not allowed to go into the theatre after presenting our tickets, but had to wait 20 minutes or more in the crowded lobby while people streamed in and edged their way to the front, ruining any sort of chance us early birds had of getting a seat (and, as we’d soon find out – any seat, not just a good one).
The doors opened and there was a mad rush into the theatre, until some people stopped abruptly, confused, as they realised there was only about 60 seats on the main floor around a big gaping hole of empty space.
An empty space, a bare floor, that we eventually figured out we were expected to sit on with our coats as makeshift cushions like elementary school children at a gym assembly.
At first I thought – did I not get the memo? But I noticed many people, some young, some elderly, some women with dresses and skirts, and one young woman with a cane, who clearly did not predict to be sitting on the dirty, hard floor for a couple hours.
Make that dirty, hard, and sticky floor – before the show even started, I caught the house manager mopping up a drink spill.
I was annoyed, but wanted to see Yann, so we decided to stick it out.
After 45 minutes in our bum-numbing “seats”, the opening band finished and we stood up for intermission. At least, I think it was intermission.
The house lights didn’t turn on as is the usual cue, so I spent most of the break trying to protect my belongings from being stepped on while people tried to maneuver in the dark.
Then, people started standing. Either from bum-numbness, or the urge to dance, I will never know, but the ‘concert’ turned out to be more like a house party with people standing in front of the stage, chatting, and drinking their beer.
The Follow-up
I was fed up: I expected seats, I got floor. I sat on the floor, I saw nothing but the backs of legs.
Too bad the house manager didn’t see it that way. Instead of apologizing, he tried to debate point after point – and in general seemed indifferent to our concerns.
He tried to explain that it really didn’t matter where we sat, because you could hear the music anywhere, and that the West End Cultural Centre doesn’t guarantee seats for its concerts.
The first point is incorrect – sitting on my living room floor with a Yann Tiersen CD would’ve produced the same results for much cheaper.
The second point, however, is surprisingly correct.
If you check the West End’s website, you’ll find a short blurb explaining: “Although ticket buyers nearly always get a seat, there are certain shows were we use a full dance floor to accommodate patrons who would like to dance.”
At this show, however, we were not allowed to go into the theatre after presenting our tickets, but had to wait 20 minutes or more in the crowded lobby while people streamed in and edged their way to the front, ruining any sort of chance us early birds had of getting a seat (and, as we’d soon find out – any seat, not just a good one).
The doors opened and there was a mad rush into the theatre, until some people stopped abruptly, confused, as they realised there was only about 60 seats on the main floor around a big gaping hole of empty space.
An empty space, a bare floor, that we eventually figured out we were expected to sit on with our coats as makeshift cushions like elementary school children at a gym assembly.
At first I thought – did I not get the memo? But I noticed many people, some young, some elderly, some women with dresses and skirts, and one young woman with a cane, who clearly did not predict to be sitting on the dirty, hard floor for a couple hours.
Make that dirty, hard, and sticky floor – before the show even started, I caught the house manager mopping up a drink spill.
I was annoyed, but wanted to see Yann, so we decided to stick it out.
After 45 minutes in our bum-numbing “seats”, the opening band finished and we stood up for intermission. At least, I think it was intermission.
The house lights didn’t turn on as is the usual cue, so I spent most of the break trying to protect my belongings from being stepped on while people tried to maneuver in the dark.
Then, people started standing. Either from bum-numbness, or the urge to dance, I will never know, but the ‘concert’ turned out to be more like a house party with people standing in front of the stage, chatting, and drinking their beer.
The Follow-up
I was fed up: I expected seats, I got floor. I sat on the floor, I saw nothing but the backs of legs.
Too bad the house manager didn’t see it that way. Instead of apologizing, he tried to debate point after point – and in general seemed indifferent to our concerns.
He tried to explain that it really didn’t matter where we sat, because you could hear the music anywhere, and that the West End Cultural Centre doesn’t guarantee seats for its concerts.
The first point is incorrect – sitting on my living room floor with a Yann Tiersen CD would’ve produced the same results for much cheaper.
The second point, however, is surprisingly correct.
If you check the West End’s website, you’ll find a short blurb explaining: “Although ticket buyers nearly always get a seat, there are certain shows were we use a full dance floor to accommodate patrons who would like to dance.”
So, what about accommodating patrons who want to sit? The Winnipeg Folk Festival seems to have it figured out: you divide the area in front of the stage in half so that patrons can dance on one side, and sit on the other, with each getting an equal view of the stage. Placing seated people behind upright dancers just doesn’t add up for me.
The website continues: “If you must sit then please arrive early as to ensure a seat.”
Which only works, of course, if you’re not kept in the lobby for 20 minutes where early folks get mixed with late comers until it’s anyone’s game who scores the limited seats.
The WECC goes on to say that they will not refund tickets if people do not get seats.
We asked for a refund, based on the premise that first, although we played by their rules (arrived early), they could not “ensure a seat”, and second, there was no mention of limited seating on the ticket, or in the advertising.
Regardless of whether it’s an official rule or not, telling patrons that performances will be standing-room or (literally) ground-level only is a courtesy rule – a common sense rule.
If you state that all ages are welcome during any concert, like the West End Cultural Centre does, you must have appropriate accommodations for all ages. You certainly can’t expect seniors to go without a chair for two hours, and even adults don’t want to sit cross-legged on the floor.
If you can’t do that, it’s only fair to notify attendees ahead of time so they can decide whether the venue will be comfortable for them. That’s just good business.
The Response
Seating arrangements and advertising, as we were told, is the promoter’s decision. Union Events was the promoter in this case, and their PR isn’t any better.
Customer service at Union Events – as I found out – means telling customers who express a complaint that they’re wrong.
We received an email from Union Events which ignored our request for a refund, and instead replied with nothing more than a block of text full of defensive statements. No greeting, no “dear ____”, no apology, and no signature or name.
‘Anonymous’ said that the majority of concerts at WECC are standing room only (not so, according to WECC’s artistic director) and implied that since they’ve been doing this for years, it doesn’t need to be advertised.
‘Anonymous’ also – wrongfully – assumed that my friend and I were disabled and countered that we should have asked an usher for seats.
We responded to their email and politely pointed out their incorrect assumptions.
‘Anonymous’ at Union Events has not replied.
As for the West End Cultural Centre, I’d like to be able to give their artistic director, Mike Petkau, some credit, for offering to mail us two concert vouchers. Unfortunately, two weeks later, we’ve received no such mail.
The Verdict
Until Union Events and the West End Cultural Centre step up their PR, consider this post your fair warning. If you attend concerts in Winnipeg, know your facts: research the event’s promoter and read up on the venue’s policy.
Until Union Events and the West End Cultural Centre step up their PR, consider this post your fair warning. If you attend concerts in Winnipeg, know your facts: research the event’s promoter and read up on the venue’s policy.
And if you don't get a seat, well... the message I'm getting is: tough luck.
That sounds like a really horrible experience, and extremely difficult to get an answer from some of the parties involved. Maybe next time you can bring the low chair you use for Folk Festival ;)
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