American View: All big projects go awry; what matters is how you recover

Risk Management19 Aug 2025

Strange as it might seem, I couldn’t wait to get to work this Monday. I was eager for someone to ask me how my weekend had gone because – hoo, boy! – I had me a hilarious story to share. The more I’d thought about my Friday night experience, the funnier I found it. Please note that I won’t be offended if you don’t find this story nearly as funny as I do. It might be one of those “you had to be there” tales.

There isn’t much backstory needed. My wife and I enjoy live music. We try to attend several concerts each year since concerts don’t conflict with our working hours. In 2022, I introduced my wife to the Swedish metal band Ghost during their “Imperatour” tour when they swung through Dallas. Ghost delivered a lively, high-energy performance to a packed crowd in the old Fair Park venue. When I heard that Ghost would be coming back to North Texas in 2025 for their “Skeletour” I immediately got us tickets. We’d been looking forward to this show for months; not just because Ghost always puts on a great live show, but because they’d be playing at Dickies Arena in Fort Worth … a heck of a lot closer to us.

As the date got closer, we started getting invitations from Dickies Arena to have dinner at the Ariat Club (the venue’s restaurant). Come early and have a leisurely, classy dinner, the adverts promised. Then meander to your seats without the annoyance of queuing outside in the 40C afternoon heat. The hotter our summer got, the more attractive this proposition became.

I finally gave in and signed us up for a 6 pm seating. OpenTable was handling the reservation and offered us an opportunity to pre-pay for the joint’s fancy-schmancy buffet dinner. I figured that would make a great “date night” for my darling wife and paid up. I wanted my wife to have a great time; the kind of experience I couldn’t usually provide. Hopefully, a show much closer to home that included dinner and extra time to hit the merch stands would be a hit.

Things went south almost immediately. It took nearly a half-hour to get out of the Mid-Cities ... Something that should’ve taken no more than ten minutes. Construction on State Highway 121 choked off access to downtown Fort Worth. More construction on the roads leading to the arena meant we didn’t get parked until 5.55. Not a lot of time to reach the restaurant.

So, this … But without the neat mountains to look at while you wait to move another few centimetres.

Once we crossed the bridge from the parking garage to the arena, things went completely sideways. This was a sold-out show; long queues had already formed at every possible entrance. To be fair, this was a joyous and upbeat crowd; most of our fellow concert goers had dressed up for the show. Some folks went all out with makeup, costumes, and props. Costumed or not, it seemed like everyone wanted to socialize. It was a super chill scene, despite the blazing heat. That was great.

As organised as the crowd was, nobody knew where dinner guests were supposed to go. This was stressful since we had 6 pm reservations and it was 6 sharp. According to the venue’s website, if we were more than a few minutes late we’d lose our slot. One security guard told us to walk all the way around the building to the North entrance. Another guard insisted that we queue up at the VIP entry line at the South entrance. A third guard thought there was a “special door” for diners with reservations but wasn’t sure where it was.

We ran into couple at the South-side VIP line who had walked all the way around the arena to the North entrance and had been refused entry. Another couple in the queue had actually made it inside the building and had reached the restaurant before being unceremoniously ejected. No one knew what we were supposed to do, so everyone was anxious and annoyed. None of the security workers seemed to know the plan; they only knew that general admission wouldn’t start until 6.30. That fact that we had confirmed dinner reservations didn’t matter.

Eventually the doors opened … for other queues. Our “VIP queue” had to wait an additional 15 minutes for couriers to deliver a box full of Yondr pouches to our checkpoint. ^[1] Once those arrived, our column started to process – slowly! – through the metal detector.

Once inside, we were told we had to find an elevator to get to the correct floor. These were controlled by live human operators, so they were less efficient but more secure. Then came the trek to the opposite end of the arena, punctuated by no fewer than three security checks along the way to ensure we had permission to enter the next segment. Polite and efficient every time, but still a time sink each time.

Fortunately, the hostess at the Ariat Club had our reservation when we arrived a half hour late. We were escorted to our table. We socialized several other couples who had likewise just made it. Everyone seemed tired but happy.

We’ve survived much worse delays and hassles trying to get places. Like every time we’ve gone to a concert in Dallas.

The first thing I noticed as we sat was the gourmet buffet line a few feet away … a completely empty buffet line that wasn’t set up for service. Hmmm … Then I spotted the tiny “event menus” on the table. I’d read the official menu ahead of time and the club’s signature dishes – flank steak, pork loin, pot roast, et al – weren’t listed. Instead, our evening’s offerings were limited to a burger, a hot dog, a brisket sandwich, and chicken tenders for the kids. School lunch material. I had a hard time believing that a burger and fries could possibly be worth the $55/head we’d already paid for. Sure enough, when the couple nearest us got their food, these weren’t fancy sandwiches on plates … they were in Styrofoam and plastic containers brought upstairs from the snack bars on the ground floor.

To be clear, I’m not a snob. I wasn’t offended by the club’s changes any more than I was insulted by not getting fawned over like a snooty jack-wagon. I’m an old squaddie who thinks eating indoors is a treat. What irked me was that I thought I’d organised a fancy dinner for my darling wife, so she’d feel special. We only get to do things like have a nice dinner out once a year. I reckoned I’d blown my shot for 2025, and figured she was going to feel let down.

When our server came by, we asked what the deal was. We knew what we thought we’d signed up for and … ah … this wasn’t it by a long shot. Our server Ms. Stephanie ^[2] was aghast at the coq-up. ^[3] She explained that the online reservations system hadn’t been updated to correctly synch reservation slots with the arena’s concert access plan. The kitchen wasn’t even operational for this show, and the buffet should never have been advertised. Ms. Stephanie was mortified, not just for us, but for all the other couples around us who had also all followed the venue’s suggestion and had bought into something that wasn’t happening. Some of the folks who had pre-paid for the $155 tomahawk steak were livid.

There was only one thing to do … laugh! I legit guffawed. Sure, it seemed like the venue had executed a cynical rug-pull on us, but that absolutely wasn’t Ms. Stephanie’s fault. She was a decent person trying to paint a good face on a humiliating institutional own goal. Being mean to her wouldn’t just be morally wrong, it would be cruel. So, we laughed about the mess together and agreed that a stiff drink would be a darned good idea.

I’d love to say I looked this cool knocking back my drink, but … no. Not even 1/100th this cool.

In the end, my darling wife and I each got the snack bar brisket sandwich. It wasn’t “gourmet” (whatever that means; I’m clueless). From my squaddie’s perspective, it wasn’t as good as the same sandwich from Railhead Smokehouse three blocks down the street, but it was a darned sight better than the same sandwich from the Dickey’s Barbeque Pit north of our town. ^[4] I figured that was good enough and probably better than we had any right to expect.

So, yeah. Our pre-concert dinner wasn’t the swanky affair that I’d promised my wife but – thankfully! – she said she didn’t care. It would have been a fun experience, sure, but the concession stand sandwich was fine and the folks dining around us – Ms. Stephanie included – were fun to socialize with. The concert itself was fantastic. No harm, no foul.

The main reason I wanted to share this story on Business Reporter – aside from the fact that I think the mess was hilarious – was that it illustrates just how challenging it is to plan and execute massive events. Dickies Arena usually accommodates about 14,000 people for concerts and every seat had sold long before the band came to town. There were a staggering number of uniformed venue staff members keeping things organised and drama-free from start to finish. I’d like to commend the staff because every single employee I interreacted with was cheerful, engaging, and professional. That’s a distinctly Fort Worth thing; you’re not going to get this sort of chill experience in Dallas.

Yeah, someone somewhere screwed up the on-site dining situation for this concert. Hopefully whomever is responsible gets things fixed before the next event. Still, if that was the worst thing that happened during Ghost’s visit, I’d call it the night a massive success. The diner mess for the ~200 people who’d signed up for a non-existent swanky dinner was – in the end – just a rounding error when compared to all the other moving parts. It was nothing to get bent out of shape over, whether you were a customer or a venue event manager. Accidents always happen. Best thing you can do is roll with each punch and do your best to try and make things right.

That should be the main takeaway: train and empower your people to recover from planning mistakes gracefully and most reasonable customers will shrug off the small failures. People are forgiving when they’re treated with candour and empathy.

^[1] The band insisted that all recording devices be secured throughout the show. Condition of entry. Given how cool the effects were, I get it.

^[2] Yes, that’s her real name. As far as I’m concerned, Ms. Stephanie deserves a raise and promotion for her fantastic attitude and charm.

^[3] I WILL NEVER APOLOGISE FOR THAT WONDERFUL PUN!

^[4] As far as I know, Dickey’s (the restaurant) has no connection with Dickie’s (the clothing brand that the arena is named after).

Risk Management