Revolution!
We need to change the rules. This is for all you fellow road warriors.
I'm sick of the monkey suit and the shiny shoes. I'm tired of tired. You want me to be successful and crisp at the trade show? Here's what I propose:
Cargo pants for the cell phone, biz cards, breath mints, pens, pads, and useless corporate, swag.
Screw the suit. My shoulders hurt. Give me fleece.
One word: SNEAKERS
A Camelback filled with Red Bull and laced with Advil.
Skip the booth babes. Give me a massage therapist.
Give me that, and I'll kill my quota. Without it, all I want is an Ambien and a bourbon chaser.
Comments
i hear you loud and clear, jimmer. i was also thinking that the occasional couch probably wouldn't kill anybody either. and why has nobody ever thought of having a mustache contest at each of these shows? it's a tremendously open field with surprises around every corner...
Posted by: SEAN | November 27, 2007 04:42 PM
have you given a thought to being a convention planning consultant?
just think of it, travel, comfort providing sponsers, and massage therapists beating down your door for referrals
Posted by: Gabriela | November 29, 2007 08:45 PM
As a fellow sufferer at RSNA and many other cons, I hear you...
However, you should be thankful that you are male and therefor do not feel obligated to wear heels.
I have resolved to find a pair of COMFY dress flats for the next conference...
Posted by: Kara | November 30, 2007 08:13 AM