The Encore and the Hour That Moved

This is a small story about a typical evening, told because it shows how a booking made on the way back can bend without breaking. A guest staying in the canal ring bought a ticket for a concert south of Leidseplein, due to end at half past ten. At the interval he wrote in the thread asking for ninety minutes at a quarter past eleven, named a therapist from the roster, and settled the deposit on his first booking before the second half began. Everything was set. Then the band came back on.

The moment he noticed

By a quarter to eleven it was clear that the encore was not a single song. The audience was on its feet and the band showed no sign of stopping. He had a choice: stay for the end and hope, or step out for a minute and write. He stepped out, wrote that he would be back at about 23:40 instead of 23:15, and asked whether the later hour still worked.

She had not yet set out. At that point, a later start on the same night is an adjustment to the hour, not a cancellation, and it costs nothing when she can keep the new time. She could. The reply came back within a couple of minutes: 23:40 confirmed, same therapist. He went back in for the last two songs.

What would have happened otherwise

Suppose he had stayed for the whole encore and written at eleven, as he walked out. By then she would have been on her way for a few minutes, heading for a door at a quarter past eleven that he could not reach until twenty to twelve. The options at that point would have been worse for everyone: she would have waited, or the reply would have had to find another way round it, or the booking would have been read as a cancellation after she set out, with the whole deposit kept as fee already earned.

The evening was exactly the same in both versions. The only difference was when he looked at his phone.

The general habit

The lesson is not about concerts. It is about noticing early. Every evening out has a point at which it becomes clear the plan is slipping: the dessert that has not arrived, the friends who order another bottle, the encore that is turning into a second set. The time to write is at that point, not twenty minutes later when you are finally sure. A guess sent early can always be corrected; a certainty sent late cannot undo a journey that has already begun.

It helps to decide in advance when you will look. At a concert, the interval and the first encore. At dinner, after the main course. At a bar, before each new round. Once is usually enough, as long as it is at the right moment.

How much to move it

He moved the hour by twenty-five minutes, which was about right. The encore ran for another fifteen, the cloakroom took ten, and the walk took the rest. It is tempting to move a booking by the minimum you think you need. It is better to move it once, by a little more than you think, because a second move in the same evening is harder on everyone than a slightly longer wait at the room.

When she cannot make the later hour

It does not always work out as neatly. Each therapist keeps her own hours, and sometimes the later time does not fit hers. When that happens, the reply says so, and tells you who is free at the new time. You decide whether to name one of them, keep the original hour, or cancel. A cancellation at that point is read on the notice scale in the booking terms just as it would be at any other moment: half the deposit kept inside the last twenty-four hours while she has not left, the whole of it once she is on her way.

The page about the evening after a show covers the timing of a concert or theatre evening from start to finish, and the note on the cloakroom queue deals with the twenty minutes after the last bow.