As the dust settles on a sudden and violent war, the injuries are being tallied.

Bruised egos, disappointed daughters, red eyes, fury at ten second timers, and wasted Friday evening plans. In-office friendships have grown tense at one firm due to folklore that an unnamed person in the office successfully snagged four tickets to Taylor Swift's concert in 2024.

At first, partners and special counsel were elated on that fateful Friday morning as personal assistants, graduates, associates, and paralegals appeared fearless in the pursuit of job excellence. Silence had clung to the office like a wet blanket since 9am when the Ticketek waiting room opened and remained that way until 5:30pm as tired hopefuls dropped like flies into the nearest bottle of wine (from which they wouldn't emerge until after midnights passing).

Danielle is a senior associate. She has been a Taylor Swift lover since lockdowns filled her social media with lyric theories regarding a scarf and Jake Gyllenhaal. She was also one of many the people glued to an office seat "working" that Friday. One computer screen filled with the Ticketek splash page for the Eras Tour, her phone also displaying the automatically refreshing page, leaning against an untouched water bottle.

"I did that on the Wednesday too for the pre-release to maximise my chances. I don’t care whether the whole thing gives me a bad reputation, I don't even care if this week affects my billings. I literally waited years for her to come to Australia again… but didn't even get one ticket."

Danielle reported that she maintained a ping-ponging stare at each device for over five hours. A dedication not shown since her days as a clerk manually comparing two documents side by side to gain praise for her attention to detail from a solicitor.

10, 9, 8…

Your turn to purchase tickets is coming soon…

7, 6, 5….

Don't refresh the page…

4, 3, 2…

Have your login details handy…

1, 0…

A pause. A refresh.

10, 9, 8…

Lanie also retells how she diligently stared at the screen on that fateful Friday, desperate to secure seats that represented mother-daughter time without teenage eye rolls and monosyllabic answers.

"My first concert was in 1989, and it was never this hard. You just paid $15 at the entrance and snuck in alcohol in a flask. Thankfully, after three hours I got the two seats I need. I also bought two extra just in case her friends want to come. I have a secret goal to be the favourite mum of their group."

On revealing that highly sensitive information, Danielle popped up from behind a nearby plant clutching a coffee with a fellow associate in tow. Their eyes narrowed to daggers.

"Lanie, Lanie, Lanie, my favourite paralegal. Extra tickets, huh? Speak now and no one gets hurt."

For safety reasons, ticketholders should keep their success confidential until further notice.

Author: Ryan Aikens (pseudonym) | Editor: Dana Heriot