The Facilitation Mafia

Ever since I started this blog, I'm becoming aware that my life back home is nowhere near as wacky as it was overseas.

Sure, working, studying and living in my own home town where I speak the language, versus moving every four days through utterly foreign places and living in places that actively promote drunkenness each night, may not be a really fair comparison. Nonetheless, it's slightly concerning.

So it's always nice when you get a ridiculous situation turn up. Especially when you're well into the thick of it before you realise just how ridiculous it actually is.



Part of my current job is to arrange and run workshops on various topics. I had a big one booked for last Friday - at 73, the largest audience I've addressed since high school, and the largest I've ever addressed without swearing. (Officially rated the most awesome school assembly of all time, even if I did pay dearly for it later)

For an event that basically involves standing a few people up in front of a bunch of other people and talk for a bit, a workshop is a surprisingly complicated event to organise.

First you have the speakers and the endless phone-tag of 'The Deciding on a Date', 'Are you available to speak or not?', and the great grand-daddy of them all 'What do you mean you though I was bringing a copy of your presentation?'. A tip if you ever have to run an event - rely on no one and nothing.

Then there's the venue, each with its own unique set of requirements and conditions - for this event, we weren't allowed to charge for entry and we had to use their catering company. But at least their facilities were good quality. Attempting to keep a professional image when you're projecting onto a bed sheet is pretty much impossible I find.

And most of all, pity the man who screws up the catering. Deny government workers their daily danish and coffee fix and they will descend upon thee like teenage girls at a Justin Biber concert.


Incidentally, who is that child and which day care centre was he snatched from? I stop watching TV for 3 weeks and some infant is 'the next pop sensation'. No. Just no. Put him back in his nappy and return him to his parents.

Either that or throw him to his frenzied fans. I admit to a morbid curiosity as to what those girls would actually do if Justin Timberlake just walked into the middle of the crowd. Dawn of the Dead comes to mind, but then I'm not sure Timbers knows how to work a chainsaw.

One of the things that is often forgotten about workshops and events is that there is quite a lot of physical materials you need to get to the venue. There's paper,pens, butcher's paper, markers, laptops, projectors, promotional materials, handouts, cameras, and of course, the corporate-style banners.

All of this needs to get from A to B and I constantly fall for the trap of thinking I can 'just carry it' all. An attitude that consistently finds me cursing myself the next morning, wrapped in a dozen baggage straps and carrying approximately a third of my own body weight.

Friday was special though. Because this was a pretty important crowd from a lot of local governments, the department of transport and quite a few consultancies, I pulled out all the stops and dressed up nice.

Generally speaking you'll do well to find a person who wears business clothing with quite the same degree of contempt as me. If I had my way I'd be in a t-shirt and shorts at all times, so if 'respect' demands I wear something with a collar and a tie (or the 'corporate noose' as I've taken to calling it), don't expect me to put a lot of effort into it. But when I need to look good, I look good.

So here you have me on Friday morning. Black suit, black shirt, shined shoes and a white tie with double-winston knot, with a black overcoat and my hair combed (I know. Like, woah).

Draped in a black backpack, two 4 foots long black bags with banners in them, and a camera slung around my neck. Add in about 15kg of fliers and miscellaneous crap in my backpack making me hunch forward and looking pretty grumpy at 7.30 in the morning.

Combine those two images.

It was only when people started shying away from me that I realised I must have looked like I was on the way to 'send a message' from Mick Gatto.

Of course, as soon as I realised this I immediately made things worse by making direct eye contact with people and casually straying my hand towards one of the long, thin banner bags. All in all, a highly entertaining morning!


But all in all running events is pretty good fun and very satisfying when it all comes off smoothly. And I looooove MCing. That deep voice that got my into endless trouble in primary school is paying off these days - there's nothing quite as satisfying as getting the attention of the entire room by bellowing from the stage. When else do you get a change to yell at 70 strangers at the top of your lungs?

Life remains interesting...

Gordon