Saturday November 13, 2004 Curtain Up, Light the Lights...

Saturday November 13, 2004 Curtain Up, Light the Lights...

What most amazes me when I first arrive the day of the conference is the metamorphosis that has occurred in the rooms since I left the night before. Everything looks as if it has been there all the time: the displays around the perimeter of the exhibition hall and in the conference hall the neat rows of white cloth bedecked tables accompanied by a formation of perfectly arranged chairs all looking forward at a empty stage in front of a massive wall of black curtain running the length of the room and in-circling the two huge back lit screens at either end of the hall. Spotlights illuminate both the podium and long table set for six panelist each with a surrogate microphone standing in their place at the table atop the stage.

I mount the steps to the stage and begin attaching my Sony Vaio Notebook to the cable that will drive both large screens. As the notebook powers up, I look into the spotlights in the two corners of the hall beaming a bright light into my eyes. I’m still able to see the formation of chairs that will soon have people staring back at the presenter atop the stage in this very spot. But they will have a much clearer view of the speaker than the speaker of them. “Function F7” and after a few seconds of delay both screens blast a view of my notebook desktop to the empty hall. Opening the desktop folder with the day’s worth of 30-minute presentations, I select the keynote and double click. Another delay and the title slide jumps out of both screens. Clicking on the presentation icon and the screens fill with the entire title slide of the presentation. Suddenly the music to Gypsy gets stuck in my head: “Curtain up, light the lights, we’ve gotten nothing to hit but the heights…” That might not be how the lyric goes, but that’s what’s playing in my head as I bound off stage and return to the exhibition area to see how quickly the opening day crowd is arriving.

I can’t sit still. I can’t eat. I can’t drink anything. About the only thing I can do is pop hard candy, more pleasant in appearance than chewing gum. It’s 30 minutes to show time and my first presenter is not to be found. I’m getting a bit stressed, though I’m sure he’ll arrive in plenty of time. When he does arrive 15 minutes later, he’s seems slightly nervous and probably regretting the large breakfast he’s just completed in the hotel restaurant. We shake hands, exchange greetings. I’ve known him over the years as he’s risen in the ranks of his company to second in command to the President and CEO. I take him into the conference area and up onto the stage, show him the computer and get him familiar with the controls. He clicks through all the slides of his presentation and ensures I have the latest version. He’s satisfied and we bring the presentation back to the title slide. I walk him back to the exhibit area where I see my president and CEO, who will introduce this our first speaker. I introduce the two of them and let them get acquainted while I check on other details just to have something to do in the minutes before I have to get the show on the road.

It’s five minutes before show time and there is a large, noisy crowd of people in the exhibition area talking to one another, eating the breakfast pastries and fruit while drinking coffee. I walk up to a microphone in the corner of the hall, and tap it twice to determine it’s live and begin speaking as loud as I can, no easy task for a man who’s wife continually chides him for speaking far too softly to be heard. “We’re about to start our morning program in five minutes. Please take your Danish and coffee with you and proceed into the conference room area.” I repeat a different version of this exhortation twice more and I begin to see the crowd slowly begin moving into the conference area. I rush into the exhibition hall and mount the stage and begin speaking into the podium mike: “Can I get everyone to take their seats so we can begin our first presentation?” I repeat a different variation of this request a second and third time.

Down from the stage, I return to the mike in the exhibition hall and repeat the request to get everyone into the conference room as the program will begin in one minute. I notice the last of the stragglers beginning to move toward the conference room entrance. It’s time to start the show. “Curtain up, light the lights, we’ve gotten nothing to hit but the heights…” Its still stuck in my head. Up on the stage at the podium mike again, I begin the housekeeping announcements. “On behalf of our sponsors…, I’d like to welcome you to the third annual….conference and exhibition. We have a great program for you today, 14 presentations on a wide variety of topics related to the… industry. Immediately after lunch, we’ll have a lively panel discussion on the importance of… Please be sure to join us after the programs complete for an open bar reception. Now, I’d like to introduce … President and CEO, Mr…. who will make some remarks and introduce our keynote speaker.

The CEO takes the stage and begins a short presentation on the value of a conference and exhibition like this one that brings customers and vendors together… “Now, it is my great privilege to introduce … who began his career… My CEO welcomes our speaker to the stage, shakes his hand and leaves the podium.

There is an awkward moment of silence as the speaker reacquaints himself with the computer and get accustomed to the full room of expectant eyes all waiting for him to say something profound. He begins with a joke that gets a small courtesy laugh from the back of the room and on he goes, pushing the down arrow on the Sony keyboard to move the presentation to the first slide. The remainder of the day is a sequence of introductions followed by brief question and answer sessions. During the day, the crowd resembles an amorphous blob sometimes filling the room to near capacity and at others leaving it with large islands of open seating.

We break for lunch at 12:15, our appointed time and the conference area becomes deserted as the crowd files into the exhibition hall now a sea of 10-seat round tables clothed and place set ready for the eager diners. In no time at all there is not an empty seat in the room and the hotel staff begin setting additional rounds in the hall outside. In a operation that runs with near military precision, each table is served a salad course beginning at the one side of the room and sweeping like a wave to the other. As soon as the entire room has been served, the wave begins where it started with salad plates being removed and replaced with an entrée designated by a letter on the badge hanging by a lanyard around each attendees neck B, C, or V: New York steak, Chicken Piccata, and vegetable Napoleon. The wave repeats with dessert and coffee. And an hour later, I’m exhorting the crowd to return to the conference room to resume the presentations. I’ve still subsisting on hard candy. The thought of food makes me nauseous.

The afternoon sessions follow the pattern of the morning and in no time the last presentation completes to general applause from the sparse audience of attendees intent on hearing every last talk. I thank them for their attention, complement them on their being a great audience and invite them to join the reception going on in the exhibition area where there is a general din of activity as I follow the last of the audience out of the conference room. There is another hour or two of house keeping details to prepare for the following day, but the Tuesday routine assures me that Wednesday will be a repeat of today. “There’s no business like show business, like no business I know…”