Ticketmaster Now Requires Photo ID, Selfie, And Notarized Confession Of Enthusiasm

The document is two pages, single-spaced, and requires a raised seal.

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Fried Ocean has obtained what three current employees, speaking on condition of anonymity because they signed something even longer, describe internally as Attachment C: the notarized affidavit now sitting at the center of the expanded Ticketmaster verified fan process. Alongside a government photo ID and a live selfie, ticket buyers are being asked to swear, before a commissioned officer of their state, that their excitement for the show is genuine and unpurchased.

“The ID proves you exist,” said one employee in the trust and integrity group. “The selfie proves you’re awake. The affidavit is the only thing that proves you actually want to go.”

Sources describe a scoring rubric

Two of the sources say the selfie is run against a model that grades what one internal document calls “pre-event affect.” Flat expressions get flagged. Neutral resting faces get flagged. A man in Ohio was reportedly bounced from a queue for looking, per the classifier, “like he was buying tires.”

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The affidavit closes the gap. Fans attest that they have listened to the artist “of their own volition,” that no third party has compensated them for their fandom, and — in a clause added quietly this spring — that they “anticipate the event with sincerity.” A notary must witness it. There is a checkbox for tears, though sources are split on whether it does anything.

Notaries have noticed. A woman who has worked the counter at a strip-mall shipping store outside Tempe for eleven years said the Ticketmaster verified fan process has tripled her weekday volume and permanently altered what she thinks of people.

“A grown man in a lanyard put his hand flat on the paper and told me he’s loved this band since he was nineteen,” she said. “I don’t need to know that. I need his driver’s license and eight dollars.”

The paid exit

Internally, according to one source, there is already a way around all of it. Buyers enrolled in the top loyalty tier can pay a $40 fee — listed on a slide as a Sincerity Waiver — and skip the affidavit entirely, their enthusiasm accepted on the strength of prior spend.

“That’s the part nobody wants written down,” the source said. “If you’ve bought enough, we assume you love it. If you haven’t, prove it in front of a notary.”

Requests for comment went unanswered.

At the counter in Tempe, a woman in a tour shirt she bought secondhand raised her right hand, said she was very excited, and waited while the seal came down on the page — a small dry crunch, the sound of joy entering the record.

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