Several months ago, I got the bug to have football season tickets again. I had them years ago, in a previous wifetime (or two), but when it came to a decision of keeping the tickets or buying groceries, I had to let the tickets go. I know, I know, I'm not a true fan.
I don't know how it works at other schools, this having season tickets thing, and I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how it works at MY school. There is a minimum "points" level at which one can qualify to buy season tickets. Points = dollars donated, and the total builds up over the years.
One must donate a minimum of $250 PER TICKET in order to purchase season tickets. In addition, one must have a total points level above the minimum score. Problem is, that minimum score is secret. Until after the donation deadline. And it changes every year. It all depends on how many people buy tickets, and how much those particular people donate. That determines the points minimum. And it only becomes known even to the powers-that-be after everyone has made his or her donation for that year.
In 2008, Hubby read to me from an article in the newspaper about what the points minimum was for that year, and I thought he either misread it or there was a typo. The MINIMUM for that year was $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Someone wanting season tickets and donating for the first time had to start at $10,000. Hubby had a buddy who donated $5,000. He got a letter back from the university basically saying thanks for your five grand, but you ain't gettin' no tickets.
Holy crap. What a racket.
The next year the minimum dropped to $4,500 and Hubby and I discussed buying season tickets. We went over the pros and cons.
Pros: We get to see the games in person.
Cons: It's hot. There are 92,000 people. We can watch most of the games on television in air conditioning. With plenty of beer. The 30-minute drive to the stadium (or as close as you can get to the stadium, which is at least a mile away) becomes a 4-hour drive. Tailgating means it takes all day to go to a game. Getting home is another 4-hour journey. It's a lot of trouble to go to just to leave at halftime. (Oh wait...that's Hubby.)
He even reminded me of a game I went to in 2008, about which I wrote this blog post.
But still. Having season tickets means ..... having season tickets. Being in the IN crowd.
And I absolutely abhor someone else having something I cannot have. I'm considering professional help for this condition.
The next year, the points minimum dropped to $1500. That's a fraction of what it had been. I realize you can do the math; I'm not trying to insult your intelligence.
Then I got the bug again. I had a separate little savings account stashed away, and I had money left in it even after I bought my new bike. I reasoned that I could use that money to donate money in the hopes of getting tickets, and it wasn't like I was spending household money. I then remembered that I had points leftover from that previous wifetime, the days before computers, that were floating around out in cyberspace somewhere. Surely those points might make a difference.
I had tried to merge those points once before, but it was like I was speaking Swahili to an infant lizard. Being the persistent sort, I called again, and this time I got a sweet young thing named Amanda on the phone. She made about four computer clicks and said, "Yep. Here they are. You've got 600 extra points."
Holy smokes. Remember, points=dollars.
Amanda told me how to merge my points, and I just realized how ridiculously long this blog post is getting, and for that I apologize.
I sent in my donations and my ticket application, still not 100% certain I would even get tickets. One year I had donated a measly amount (one of those other years when I felt the urge), and they sent me a ticket application. Completely misunderstanding, I ordered two season tickets, and I think the refund they sent me had "Ha ha ha ha - good one" in the memo line.
So I watched my credit card account like a hawk, fully expecting every day for them to refund the amount of two season tickets. But not my donation, of course. (I did read somewhere, though, that if someone really insists, they will refund the donation also.)
When it became comfortably obvious that they were keeping my money, indicating I had indeed procured the coveted season tickets, I then fretted about how to break the news to Hubby. It wasn't the money .... it was MY money, and we never fight about money anyway. If I overspend and have to ask Hubby to bail me out, he does it. No fussing, no cussing, no criticism (at least not out loud).
One night at dinner, when he had a particularly good day on the golf day and was pretty mellow, I decided to unburden my soul with the horrible secret of what I had done. When I finally blurted out that we had season tickets for football this year, Hubby just looked at me for a moment.
Then he said, "I saw that on your bank account months ago."
All that worry for nothing. Now he wants an RV parking pass, which is in the works. That will solve several of the cons regarding getting to and from the game. It also allows him to leave the game at halftime and me to stay.
I love it when a plan comes together.