Traveling To Conferences

My job requires me, at this point, to attend conferences of some sort a few times a year. Now, I'm not, thank God, one of those guys who stands at a booth and shills products, so I'm not contemplating suicide. I'm one of the guys who sits at a round table and pretend-listens to whomever is speaking. Allow me to divide my comments on the experience into two categories.

THE CONFERENCE ITSELF

Yesterday's conference was, I guess, sort of a big deal. Professional educators throughout the state converged on a Dells resort to address teacher education issues. You might think this would increase the chance of compelling interaction. You would be wrong. Here's the formula, repeated throughout similar gatherings, whether the gatherings pertain to accounting, plumbing, selling hair care products, whatever:

1) A harried but professionally dressed woman approaches the microphone and says she'd like to start on time. She then thanks everyone for coming, thanks the tech people (although your tech problems are hardly over, honey), and points out one or two of her co-planners by their first names. Their first names are VERY IMPORTANT. Using first names allows the speaker to A) make the conference sound like a backyard barbacue, and 2) create a conference "in crowd" of which you're not part. The speaker then says she's not going to talk long. This is the kiss of death. The more she insists she will not talk long, the longer she will talk. She will then outline the agenda, pointing out the breaks, and say A) we will be sticking to the timeline (we won't), and B) You will have a lot of time to talk in your team (you won't have as much as you think because speakers will run over). She then will introduce the first speaker, referring to some sort of local connection. Yesterday the speaker liked Wisconsin custard. Often the reference will start with a conversation at the hotel bar the previous evening, again reinforcing the "conference in-crowd" idea. The woman will eventually get the hell out of the way, saying "you didn't come here to hear me speak" despite the fact we just did for longer than we expected, throwing off the agenda before the first speaker opens his mouth.

2) The first speaker will start. Now, I have to admit, yesterday's first speaker was excellent. He'd been doing this for years, he didn't have the "it's all about me" attitude so common with speakers, and his slides were decent. However, he ran into initial tech problems in that his microphone rendered his speaking voice somewhere between the Jesus and Mary Chain's guitar feedback and an echo chamber. When this happens even thousand people will swirl around the speaker, trying to fix the problem, including one or two ambitious audience members aspiring to instant "in crowd" status. Yesterday a lapel microphone was the problem, so the guy graciously switched to a hand-held microphone without drama. I liked him.

3) Almost everyone in the room will be dressed for a wedding. Maybe the ballroom inspires the audience to pull out the formal wear. I don't know. I will be the worst dressed person in the room. I will wear jeans and a button-down shirt with sneakers. I am also usually the youngest person in the room.

4) Sooner or later (usually sooner) a bad speaker starts. Yesterday's bad speaker was set up for a fall, it seems, to be fair, in that the organizers asked him to share a ton of information very quickly, and his comments were so broad and surfacy that they lacked meaning. He was sweating, too. He knew he sucked.

5) A panel will take place at some point. Yesterday's panel featured three male speakers and was set to run forty-five minutes. The first guy was still outlining his opening comments fifteen minutes into the panel. Alas, no question and answer time for us without pissing off the lunch set-up people.

6) Now, I have the worst conference ADHD imaginable. I get up. I walk around. Yesterday I went to see the waterpark. I checked four times on my room status. I called work and left silly messages for my coworkers. I read a stray newspaper. I drove through the Dells. Now, I know I probably should have stayed, as I'm getting paid for attending these things, but I already knew what was going to happen, and I didn't want to waste my time. There are advantages to workplace longetivity. I've worked at one place long enough to walk away from these things without fear. A poor bastard in front of me looked new, however, and he had to sit with his dean at the table and take notes and utter pleasantries.

7) I'm missing a smaller meeting at the same hotel this morning. The smaller colleges were getting together to talk about some issues. I've been in these killer meetings before...grandstanding faculty, self-important discourse about bullshit issues, and the larger meetings' problems in microcosm. F--k it. I checked out and drove home.

TRAVELING TO CONFERENCES

I am a horrible traveler. I'm surprised about this development, honestly. However, I am notorious for heading home before my scheduled departure. In the past few years, I've returned early from the Badlands (solo vacation), San Diego (conference), and about five other small state conferences. Next October I'm set for ten days in Italy, for work, so we'll see how that works out. I won't be able to jump in the car and drive home.

I think the general proximity of state conferences heightens my desire to return home. Yesterday I realized I could be home by six thirty if I left by four, and ten minutes later I was on the highway. I felt like I was moving at 200 miles an hour with nothing in my trunk. The sun started setting, as we're just past daylight savings time, but I didn't mind. I was headed east, and the full moon would hang as a target, rising as I drew closer to home. I passed through Horicon, Wisconsin, a town that absolutely fascinates me. I'll save that for another post. My kids were watching tv when I walked in the door. They didn't care much that I was home, but I was thrilled to see them, rather than a standard hotel room with iffy internet access and a buffet breakfast. I think I'll stick around for a while and leave the conferences to the guys in suits who nod their heads enthusiastically when the woman at the start says we'll stay on task.