Roaming Reporter
Conference Call
This week Roaming Reporter jumps aboard the gravy train of corporate conference
travel.
There was some consternation caused by last week's post in the home of its key protagonist.
True to form, Ned hadn't actually told his wife – let's call her Rose – about his
new bag purchase. What better way than through the virtual pages of a mate's blog?
Rose was away on a trip of her own, and its only fair to mete out affectionate public
humiliation even-handedly, so today I want to talk about the great 'business conference'
circuit. Rose – and it has to be said it was her first solo trip of any kind in
18 years of marriage and child-rearing – has just come back from the Kauai.
Now, we all know that during certain weeks of the Hotham or Thredbo ski seasons,
you can't move for prosthodontists or heart surgeons. “Seminars” are finished by
10am, and resume only over gluwein or apple schnapps. These are good weeks for accidents
or chest pains.
I also got a letter recently from my insurance broker informing me, in the spirit
of full disclosure, that up to “20 general insurance advisers and their partners”
might go, “every second year”, to an international conference “for up to 7 days”,
sponsored by the organisation of which he is an authorised representative. Apparently,
“qualification is based on the growth of their portfolio of business, subject to
their compliance with legislative requirements and underwriting guidelines and observance
of [said company]'s professional standards and conditions at all times”.
My own travel rorts are less exciting. A few years back, I was sent to a US conference
focusing on direct marketing for newspapers subscriptions – by this very media organisation,
in fact. It was held in Vail, in the Rockies, but in summer. In zealous American
style, meetings kicked off at breakfast and finished after dinner. We were allowed
one half-afternoon off. I chose the horse riding; two of our party fell off and
a huge thunderstorm moved in over the mountains. We heard later that one horse –
thankfully unmounted – had been subsequently struck by lightning.
You might also think that Lonely Planet would have stretched to the odd exotically
located talkfest. Indeed, when I joined, the global management team was poised to
meet in Kathmandhu, for planning and trekking, but the trip got scuppered in the
wake of 9/11. I did manage to take my own team to Thailand for a few days – at half
the price of a week in Queensland, or even Daylesford. We strategised by day, hung
out with Norwegian backpackers by night.
But Rose's trip to the Kauai takes the biscuit. It was organised under the auspices
of, wait for it, a network called something like Diving Paediatricians and involved
pithy PowerPoint presentations scheduled around the prevailing offshore winds. No
mobile coverage, a week of cloudless blue skies, and a superb “learning environment”,
both in and out of the water. Good luck to her! She was certainly less stressed
than normal by the compulsive online retailing of her husband on return. Luggage
Lad is safe to shop another day.
Where have got to on the national or international business conference circuit,
glamorous, prosaic or otherwise? Share your stories of slipping the taxman's noose.
Want to see me tackle a particular travel topic - or just want to talk direct? E-mail
me on
simon.westcott@bigpond.com
Simon Westcott, a former Lonely Planet publisher, is also a contributing editor
to Travel + Leisure Australia magazine.
Simon is co-founder and Managing Director of the new Asia Pacific outpost of Mr
& Mrs Smith, launching to Australian custom ers in late April.
|