We don’t really have a, down-the-pub-on-a-Friday-afternoon, type of culture; we’d rather keep on trucking and leave for the weekend with a clean conscience and a clean desk.
But this Friday, even for us, was horribly frenetic with just about all of us sporting please-don’t-talk-to-me auras: interns assembling and re-assembling press packs; account execs printing schedules with a flourish only to bin them ten minutes later; AR and PR account managers intent on taking multi-tasking to new levels, seemingly on several calls at once, emailing and IMing all at the same time; harried-looking event planners scuttled around with lengthy guest lists, muttering darkly about being 25% over capacity already; while account directors looked increasingly dismayed at their calendars for the following week and the number of back-to-back briefings wedged in them. As for me, my own concerns cantered around my new smart phone the current embodiment of a contradiction in terms and seemingly designed to thwart me on every level. Owl post would be a definite upgrade. Conversations were terse and the regular flurries of expletives remained unremarked, while Haribos and Americanos were being consumed at the optimum ulcer-inducing capacity.
So what’s all the fuss about?
Sibos innit?
More to the point the 14 clients we are supporting there, the stands we’ve designed, the parties we’ve planned, the 50plus sales appointments we’ve scheduled, the 80plus analyst briefings and the 100plus press interviews that we have organised on their behalf.
It goes without saying the most sought after currency next week in Vienna at the five day super size conference, will be sleep and the following week I expect we’ll be sporting the collective cold for our efforts as the stress and lack of sleep takes its toll on my otherwise chilled out team.
This is the dark underbelly of your PR ‘jolly’, and guess what, we LOVE it.
Whether it’s our 25th Sibos (well done Clare) or our first (welcome to our world Silke) we will wear our ghostly pallor, and facial ticks like badges of honour. Sibos - our ultimate tour of duty.
As for me, I’m particularly looking forward to patrolling the queues of party goers with my clipboard (and possibly an owl on my shoulder if I can’t get my bloody phone to co-operate) fixing the fintec faithful with my icy stare, and uttering those immortal lines, ‘If your name’s not down, you’re not coming in...’