Waiting hours for £700 Oasis tickets – ‘dynamic pricing’ is a rip-off

Saturday was a big day for us for many reasons. Not only were we attending a wedding, but Oasis tickets were going on sale at 9 am.

We were well-prepared, with about four or five phones between us, all set up and ready to go. My best friend messaged me saying that she and her husband were trying on their laptops at home. If this was a numbers game, we were sure to ace it.

We joined the queue as soon as the gates opened. During the ceremony, we dutifully switched our devices to “do not disturb.”

Once the bride and groom went to get their pictures taken, we stole a glance at our screens to see how we were doing: “You are 192012901887362 in the queue…” (okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a tad). Still, optimism prevailed as we saw that blue bar creep up, little by little.

During the wedding breakfast, between starters and mains, one of us got in: “Wahey!” we exclaimed, before regaining our composure. But by that time, the only option left was standing tickets at £350 a pop.

After a brief consultation, we decided to bite the bullet and proceed. After all, we never thought we’d see the day that the Gallagher brothers would reunite. We wanted tickets to the Cardiff show, just in case they had a barney and didn’t make it to Wembley.

But no sooner had we made our selection than we were booted out and given the error message of doom. I frantically tried refreshing my internet browser, only to be told I was a suspected bot. It was a massive blow—and also meant I was out of the running.

Half an hour later, my sister managed to get to the front of the queue—but this time, the price for standing tickets had skyrocketed to an eye-watering £700.

At this point, the real dilemma kicked in. We were caught somewhere between sunk-cost fallacy (the idea that you’ve waited so long and invested so much time, that you have to see it all the way through—regardless), the desire to see the band that shaped our childhoods perform live, and, well, common sense.

Ultimately, we decided the price was just too steep and bowed out. It wasn’t a decision made lightly, and it was made worse by the fact that, technically, we could have gone to the gig. But surge pricing is a racket.

While we didn’t want to willingly bankrupt ourselves for what would essentially be two hours dodging grown men with mod haircuts launching bottles of p*** into the crowd, it’s easy to see why people cave to the pressure when buying tickets.

Your senses are heightened, you are dedicated to the cause, and, with the added weight of knowing it will likely never happen again in your lifetime, it all gets too much. It’s essentially a high-intensity poker game in a casino, one with thousands of players betting huge amounts of money, or, like us, deciding to fold.

Of course, it isn’t just Oasis fans that have faced this predicament. Most recently, Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour fell victim to “dynamic pricing” algorithms, which ensure higher prices when demand is high and lower prices when demand is low. I was lucky enough to bag myself some £75 tickets for Wembley—but I saw other seats up in the Gods jump to well over £100, not to mention the VIP packages at £500+ each.

What made things worse was self-proclaimed super-Swifties buying up tickets to multiple dates—which not only ramped the prices up further but deprived other fans of the ability to see their favorite artist. Let’s also not forget the many influencers and celebs who were offered prime seats for free and had the gall to say they weren’t even fans (eesh).

The monopolization and politicization of ticket-buying has rankled with me for years. I don’t agree with being bumped into buying “VIP packages” or hospitality boxes, much less ticket sellers preying on the vulnerable. True fans don’t laud their wealth over others, and true artists don’t go into it for the payout.

Not only does this system push people to stretch themselves financially, but it also creates yet another barrier for those from lower-income households. When I was younger, tickets had set prices, and I knew how much to save in advance. Now, it’s like the Wild West.

Thankfully, culture secretary Lisa Nandy has called for a review into dynamic pricing, which will look into whether the likes of Ticketmaster should be more transparent about its surge pricing. It won’t mean much for Oasis fans who have already missed the boat or paid several times over the odds to stand in a field in Manchester, but at least it’ll provide hope for future gig-goers if they get some kind of reform.

As for me, this whole experience has jaded things. If I had bought tickets, the cost would have left such a bitter taste, I wouldn’t have fully enjoyed the event. Maybe one day I won’t look back in anger—but right now, I am pretty miffed.

Source: The Guardian