I just thought of a great way to torture criminals in prison. Let them hear the piano music over and over again that sounds like it was recorded from somebody playing a keyboard while anchored underwater as you wait for a live person from Ticketmaster to speak with you an hour later. Like so many other huge corporations, Ticketmaster does everything possible to not have to talk directly to their customers. Let’s start with the first thing you hear from a recorded voice when you call. “Have a question for us? You can find the answer by going online at wwwfrustratedconsumer.com.” Now why would you bother to call just to have them try to send you back to the place where they had failed to answer your question in the first place?

So, here was my issue with Ticketmaster, that I’m now going to rename it Ticketdisaster, and you’ll soon see why. Penn’s Peak had scheduled a concert with a Taylor Swift tribute band so I went online to surprise my daughter and her friend with two tickets. Rather than drive to the box office, which I did later anyway, I decided to purchase the tickets on my phone and transfer them to my daughter’s phone.

After the purchase was approved, for $23 more than the face price of the tickets, I tried no less than five times to make the transfer. Each time, the message I received was that the tickets were successfully transferred, yet on my daughter’s phone, her message was that the tickets cannot be transferred from my email.

What to do next? I did what any loving father who has a daughter who’s obsessed with the real Taylor Swift. Afraid the concert might be sold out, I drove to the Penn’s Peak box office where a friendly woman promptly sold me two tickets to the show and if I might add, without the excessive Ticketdisaster service fees, which I’ll never understand what service you pay for when the tickets are electronically produced and delivered. For the extra $23 I paid, wouldn’t it be nice if printed tickets were delivered right to my door?

Now, I’ve paid just under $150 for four tickets, two that are stuck to my phone that I can’t transfer. My first phone call to Ticketdisaster produced a promise of a refund with an email confirmation. Days later and no email sent, I made my second call and after nearly an hour of underwater piano music, I was told the request for the refund was denied. Now I stay civil and calm on calls like these because the person I’m speaking with is just an employee working behind silent management that makes these decisions and leaves the disgruntled consumer like me to complain to a guy who is woefully underpaid compared to “Mr. Ticketdisaster” and his management team that probably feed on Maine lobsters and drink $100 bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon on an uneventful Monday night.

The agent on the phone told me if I want to pursue the matter further, he’d a have a representative call within the next few days. “So, let me understand,” I said to the agent. “My request for a refund was denied, but someone will call me in two days and tell me my request was denied?” Let me clear my calendar and wait at my kitchen table for that call. Well, I did get the call and exactly what I expected, the supervisor repeated that I get no refund even though I had been previously promised one.

Then he tried to give me an example that failed miserably. “Go to a store,” he said, “and if an item is ticketed for four dollars, but the cashier said that it was mistakenly marked and it really costs eight dollars, you have to pay the eight dollars.”

“No, you do not,” I replied. “Most reputable stores will honor the mis-priced cost because they made a mistake which in turn is good customer service. By giving you the lower price, they have earned your return business.”

He continued to try to explain that just because I was promised a refund, that doesn’t mean I get the refund. His frustration with my discontent over the matter ended when he hung up the phone.

Ticketdisaster must need my 83 bucks more than me, especially after selling upper deck Citizens Bank Park tickets for the bargain price of $857 apiece to see the real Taylor Swift last spring.

If I was given the time, I might have suggested to the supervisor that he should replace the awful underwater piano music with maybe, the tune of “Don’t’ Waste Your Time” by Kelly Clarkson or how about the classic Queen hit, “Another One Bites the Dust.”

Let’s put the first blame on me for this fiasco. I didn’t read the fine print before I made my purchase that stated no refunds or exchanges for this particular show. I’m guilty as charged for ignoring the conditions of the sale before I checked off the box. That still does not excuse the promise I had to receive a refund after explaining my oversight to the first agent. The bottom line? They win. I lose.

I’m now left with two choices with my digital tickets. I can go to the venue and stand in line with two more of my daughter’s friends and get them in from my phone or - I can ask a girl’s mom who is dropping off her daughter if she’d like to join me for the show.

With our general admission tickets, we could sit right next to our teenage daughters. I’m sure they would just love to be next to their parents, a couple of old Swifties, singing along to songs we’ve never heard before.

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com