Changing My Mindset
WHETHER MONEY BUYS happiness is a matter of debate, but a recent incident reinforced my conviction that financial security does indeed help. The incident would’ve caused me considerable distress a few years ago, when I was earning more but was still dependent on my fulltime job’s paycheck. My newfound financial security, however, transformed the situation into a truly memorable experience.
My wife, Bonny, and I both enjoy attending Indian music and dance performances. We make it a point to see the live shows put on by local groups and, if the ticket prices are reasonable, also those featuring artists visiting from India. This year, Bonny was keen to see a dance-drama performance by a touring group from India. Although the show was scheduled for July, Bonny wasted no time securing two tickets when reservations opened in March. I got the sense that the tickets came with a hefty price tag.
As the date drew nearer, Bonny’s excitement built. On the day of the event, she repeatedly urged me to hurry up and get ready, with the half-joking threat to leave me behind if I delayed any further. Both of us got dressed up and were about to head out when Bonny received a text message.
It was from a friend who’d purchased tickets in the same row as us. She was curious if we changed our seats because she couldn’t spot us in the theater. Bonny responded with a touch of impatience, assuring her that we’d be there shortly. Her friend called within minutes to say the show had just finished.
Bonny was perplexed, while I hastily jumped to the conclusion that she must have misremembered the showtime. Bonny, however, was adamant that she had purchased tickets for a 7 p.m. performance, and the screenshots of the tickets saved on her phone backed up her claim. Yet it appeared that the actual showtime was 1 p.m.
Whatever the source of confusion, Bonny quickly came to the painful realization that she’d missed the show she’d so eagerly anticipated. She looked despondent as she slumped into a chair, covering her face with her hands, as though she’d let slip a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
My reaction? A decade ago, I’d have initially delved into the cause of the mix-up, and then channeled all my energy into seeking a full or partial refund. The idea of squandering a few hundred dollars for nothing would’ve been inconceivable, and I wouldn’t have hesitated to try every avenue to recoup the loss.
But surprisingly, this time around, the monetary loss was the last thing on my mind. Clearly, the recent years of financial security had changed my priorities and values. My foremost concern was to alleviate Bonny’s distress.
An online search revealed the reason Bonny was so eager to attend the performance. It wasn’t just any dance drama; it was India’s first Broadway-style musical play, a theatrical reproduction of the legendary Indian movie Mughal-e-Azam. Now, it was my turn to comprehend the magnitude of what we’d missed.
I found out that the touring group still had three more cities to visit over the next three weekends. Fortunately, their next stop was Vancouver, just a few hours’ drive across the border. There were still a few tickets within our budget available for the Friday show. Without hesitation, I bought two tickets.
When I shared the new plan with Bonny—that we’d drive to Vancouver the following Friday to watch the same performance—she was thrilled. She still couldn’t shake off the surprise from the mix-up, and took it upon herself to investigate and request a refund. It turned out that the event organizers had indeed rescheduled the original performance to 1 p.m., but we hadn’t received any notification. After some back-and-forth between the ticketing agency and the organizers, Bonny secured two complimentary tickets for the upcoming Vancouver show, which we could pick up from the box office an hour before the performance.
That meant we now had four tickets to the Vancouver performance. Bonny contacted friends to see if anyone would be interested in purchasing our two extra tickets. Within hours, she found a buyer who was happy to acquire them without the pesky convenience fees. We were relieved that we could partially recoup the money Bonny had spent on the missed performance.
The following Friday, we set off early for Vancouver. The drive was uneventful, and we arrived in the afternoon. After enjoying a leisurely meal at a local restaurant and exploring the downtown, we made our way to the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in time to pick up our complimentary tickets.
The tickets were for the mezzanine, toward the rear of the auditorium. Considering it was a last-minute arrangement, the seats turned out to be better than we expected. Before heading inside, we opted to linger in front of the theater to snap some photos. After a few minutes, Bonny’s phone rang. It was the theater representative who gave us the complimentary tickets. She asked us to see her at the box office because, apparently, she had even better tickets to offer.
We were left in disbelief when we received the new tickets. They placed us in the center of the sixth row in the orchestra section—some of the best seats for experiencing a live performance. Later, I discovered that these tickets were priced at four times what we had originally paid. In a hurry, we entered the auditorium and grabbed our seats, not wanting to give the representative a chance to change her mind.
Watching the performance from such close proximity was an unforgettable experience. We were completely captivated and entranced. Three hours passed by in the blink of an eye. As the performance came to an end, we unanimously declared it the best live show we’d ever witnessed.
Sanjib Saha is a software engineer by profession, but he's now transitioning to early retirement. Self-taught in investments, he passed the Series 65 licensing exam as a non-industry candidate. Sanjib is passionate about raising financial literacy and enjoys helping others with their finances. Check out his earlier articles.The post Changing My Mindset appeared first on HumbleDollar.
