It’s now less than a hundred days until Christmas.
God, that’s terrifying! It feels like we’ve only just come back to work after the August lull; it’s far too soon to be thinking about Mariah Carey’s festive warbling.
But as horrifying as the thought of being unable to escape that song for the next three months is, it’s Halloween later this month, so it seems an appropriate time to tell some stories that should only ever be uttered in hushed voices around a campfire; a campfire in the middle of nowhere; no stars, just a pitch black sky and the ominous sound of hungry wolves howling in the distance.
Alright, that’s a bit dramatic, but I have had my fair share of live-event horror stories.
We work in a complex business environment, and every single person and moving part is essential to the event coming off without a hitch. Because it’s such a technical undertaking, it’s perhaps inevitable that something will go wrong once in a blue moon – both with people and equipment.
- I’ve had presenters fall onto the stage when they misjudge the steps trying to make their entrance, and others fall off the back of the stage, between the screen and the staging!
- I’ve had a lady in a crowded awards venue, flanked by colleagues on either side, needing to be guided from the room because she was having a diabetic hypo.
- I’ve had a delegate sitting at the front of the room suddenly suffers a heart attack, during a rather dramatic speech about the perils of climbing Mount Everest. The event had to be stopped, paramedics called, and the poorly man taken off for emergency medical attention.
Thankfully, all concerned made a full recovery.
- I’ve had company logos fall off the set during a live speech.
- I’ve had equipment blips, and when I say ‘blips’ I mean they’ve gone so catastrophically bad that we’ve had to send the delegates out for a break and then bring them back in once we finally figured out what the problem is. Less than ideal when you only have the use of a room for a certain amount of time.
And that reminds me of the smell of burning toast…
See, we were hosting a hybrid event at The Science Museum in London, and everything was going smoothly.
That was until the fire alarm went off and the building was evacuated.
The connecting university was also evacuated.
And all the surrounding business.
And we had to wait outside.
Hundreds and hundreds of people.
For 2 hours. In the scorching hot sunshine.
By the time we were allowed back in the building, there wasn’t enough time to finish the event, so the entire thing had to be rescheduled. Cue lots of (understandably) unhappy grumbling.
I suppose the best way to look at situations like these is that no one was injured and everyone went home safely to their families. But I love my job and I pride myself on being professional, so when things like this happen, I take it to heart. Could I have anticipated a fire alarm going off? No, of course not, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like somehow, the event team had let everyone down.
But that’s a nice little segue into another horrifying subject that I want to mention this month; professionalism.
There’s no way for me to address this without ruffling a few feathers, including my own. If you disagree with me, that’s fine; I only speak from my experience.
As long as I’ve been in this industry, there’s been an unwritten rule that if you’re pencilled in to do an event, then you honour that booking. Unforeseen things like illnesses happen, but if you know you’re going to be unable to meet your commitments you do your utmost to let the event manager know as soon as possible to give them time to make alternative arrangements. I have no issue with that at all.
But recently, I feel like honouring that unspoken code is becoming less and less of a priority for people. If I pencil in a freelancer for a booking and they get offered something in the interim that’s either more money or more work than what I’m offering, I totally get why they’d go for the offer that gives them more.
But some people are either giving me next to no notice to reschedule my booking, giving the lamest of excuses as to why they can’t do it, or just not bothering to tell me at all.
This has happened to me 3 times in the last month alone. This makes the talk I have to have with the client to tell them their favourite freelancer has let us down incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.
Miscommunication can also be an issue. I know there’s a beef from freelancers in the industry about the way some companies book them. I’ve seen it so many times; someone is pencilled in for an event, but then the one doing the pencilling in gets distracted by something else and forgets to tell the freelancer. That’s a code of conduct all of it’s own.
Look, I don’t want to come across as being negative to all freelancers, because that’s just not the case. 99.9% of freelancers are incredibly hard-working, reliable, and a joy to work with, and I don’t want to tar them with the same brush as the remaining 0.01%.
But all I’m asking for is a little professional courtesy. From both sides. I promise to do my utmost to be better if ‘you’ will!
Is that too much to ask?
Let me know your thoughts on this, and whether you’ve experienced anything similar, either as an event manager or as a freelancer.
Oh, and Happy Halloween!
