Ticketmaster.com: The World’s Worst Web App
Every time I use Ticketmaster’s site to order tickets, I find myself saying the same thing: damn this sucks. Everything about it is horrible. I know the show I want to get tickets for, why is it such an ordeal?
Your order begins with doing a search for the tickets you want, specifying what section or price level you are interested in. Before you get to run the search, you encounter a CAPTCHA image. Roughly every third one is completely illegible, even to people who have perfect sight. There is a helpful link entitled “Can’t see the image?”, but when you click on it, there’s an apology for people who perhaps can’t see very well and offers an alternate way of ordering. I just want to order the regular way, why can’t you make the image readable by human beings all the time?
Once you get through that travesty, you’re met with your ticket selection. Oh, and you have two minutes to decide if you want the tickets. Two minutes!?!? That’s barely enough time to look at the seating chart to see where tickets with the code MEZ84RC will place you in the theater. Quick, say that you want the tickets!
Phew, okay, now I have a page asking me to sign up for an account. Huh? I already have an account, why can’t I use that? Oh crap, there’s only one minute to do this…uhhhh…I guess I’m signing up for a new account. Wait, there’s a little link in the corner that will let you use an existing account, oh, but I didn’t see it early enough, quick, must hit enter!
After that, you have three minutes to enter your credit card information. And the whole stressful situation is done in six minutes. Why does it have to be this difficult to order tickets online? For the privilege, you get to pay that daunted “convenience charge” that is anything but convenient. It’s too bad Ticketmaster has such a monopoly, because there’s certainly room for a better online ticket ordering system.
Disclaimer: Any viewpoints and opinions expressed in this article are those of Nicholas C. Zakas and do not, in any way, reflect those of my employer, my colleagues, Wrox Publishing, O'Reilly Publishing, or anyone else. I speak only for myself, not for them.