Terror

 

I was not predicting the future, I was trying to prevent it.

― Ray Bradbury

A year ago, I urged live event organizers to prepare for domestic terror.

Sadly, that prediction proved correct last night.

The Outlook for Events is Gloomy

If people don't want to come to the ballpark,

how are you going to stop them?

— Yogi Berra

This week marked the second anniversary of WHO's admission that Covid-19 was a problem.

Perhaps no other segment of the economy, except for the airlines industry, suffered worse from the pandemic than the face-to-face meetings industry.

I've been a Cassandra all this time, I'll readily admit. 

But four decades working in the industry told me the road would be rocky.

It will continue to be so for quite a while. 

As Covid-19 remains a threat to our wellbeing, organizers should expect no more than half the pre-pandemic audience to return to their live events in the coming three years.

That means organizers, if they honestly want to serve their paying customers, have a duty to reimagine their events with only half the customary audience.

Pollyannish thinking won't cut it.

Educating exhibitors in sales and lead-gen is the place to start.

Were I still an organizer, I'd devote an hour a day to learning from my smartest exhibitors precisely what they need to make my event pay off. 

Then I'd use my findings to create simple programs of benefit to every exhibitor—even those who in their unfounded arrogance believe they "know it all."

Yogi was right. 

You can't stop people who don't want to come to the ballpark.

But you can teach the players to up their game.

POSTSCRIPT: A bellwether event, SXSW opened Friday to a "noticeably smaller" audience.

The Future of Face-to-Face is Now

A lackluster CES earlier this month prompted Fortune to question the appeal of live trade shows.

CES' organizer "will unquestionably hail it as a success and tout the benefits of face-to-face interaction despite the pandemic," Fortune observed. "And, in many ways, it’s hard to argue against that."

The sparsely populated event, however, underscored the fact that exhibitors can no longer be expected to spend tens of thousands—if not millions—of dollars merely to meet a handful of buyers; and that attendees can no longer be expected to hop cross-continental flights, merely to meet a few suppliers.

"While the sponsors of these events are eager to bring them back, the attendees are a lot less certain," Fortune said. Given the hesitancy, "it’s valid to ask if they're worth it."

My take is that, with the advent of the virtual meeting, live events' future hangs in the balance.

They may not be worth all the fuss and bother.

To keep live events worthwhile—and better than their virtual cousins—organizers must find new ways to assure not only participants' safety, but their ROI. 

The latter is something organizers haven't had to do—and something they may not be able to do.

For the harsh truth is, while virtual events are far from great, they're good enough. 

They allow buyers and sellers to connect, while eliminating almost all of the downside risks inherent in live events.

And in a risk-averse world, that says a lot.

Live events may be history, unless organizers find ways to reduce participants' risks.

Not one day, but now.

Above: Conference at Night by Edward Hopper.

CES: the S Stands for "Superspreader"

America wants to get back to normal.

That goes without saying.

But why otherwise smart people would decide to hold a a mega-show like CES in the midst of the third wave of the pandemic merely to simulate normal defies explanation.

Perhaps the pressure from wishful exhibitors was too much for the show's organizer to bear. 

I won't pretend to know.

But I do know one thing.

Thousands of attendees will return home from the event infected.

They'll in turn infect others, who'll swamp the hospitals and deny beds to injury victims and the chronically ill.

And some of those infected will surely die.

All in the name of hope.

Hope, they say, is not a strategy.

Neither is killing your customers.

POSTSCRIPT: They also say, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Don't believe it.

Tradeshow Organizers Must Diversify. Here's How.

The enterprise that does not innovate ages and declines.

— Peter Drucker

If I'm bearish on tradeshows, I have cause.

Lulled by easy money, show organizers seem allergic to innovation; a condition that makes them ripe for disruption.

The best defense against disruption lies in product diversification—a sound strategy in good times, an essential one in hard.

That should be obvious.

And it should be obvious that, because they're selling audiences to advertisers, tradeshow organizers need look no farther for diversification tactics than to magazine publishers—the poster children for disruption.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the Internet eviscerated magazine publishers' century-old business model. In a painful "print apocalypse," more than 10,000 magazines disappeared from inboxes.

Savvy magazine publishers responded by diversifying their product lines, pushing their number from one, two, or three to more than a dozen.

Those include:

Content. Aiming at readers, the publisher sells subscriptions or raises revenue through crowdfunding.

Branded content. Aiming at advertisers, the publisher functions as a traditional creative agency.

Events. Aiming at both readers and advertisers, the publisher organizes live, virtual, and hybrid tradeshows and conferences, selling registrations, booths and sponsorships.

Ads. The publisher acts as a traditional one, selling ads and advertising programs that can be targeted to reader-segments.

Awards. The publisher operates an industry awards program, collecting entry fees and selling tickets to celebratory events.

Merchandise. The publisher acts as the operator of a "discount club," selling memberships to readers who want to avail themselves of a portfolio of discounted products and services.

Data. Aiming at advertisers, the publisher sells data that advertisers and third parties can use to target prospects and leverage adverting programs.

Leads. The publisher takes on the role of a lead-generation firm, using webinars and telemarketing to capture new leads for advertisers.

Consulting. The publisher acts as a marketing, sales or business consultant, providing advertisers and peers expertise.

Software. The publisher licenses proprietary software and sells IT consulting and support to its peers.

Brand licenses. The publisher equips other marketers to leverage its brand, selling them the rights to use its "seal of quality."

Capital. The publisher acts as an investor and broker, launching specialized private equity funds within its industry.

Show Animals

2022 and 2023 are going to be HUGE for in-person events.

— Joe Pulizzi

Content-marketing guru Joe Pulizzi is bullish on tradeshows, as are many who've attended one lately.

I'm not so sanguine, despite the Delta variant waning.

But a tradeshow-industry insider suggested to me this week that my bearish views aren't justified. 

He pointed to the recent shows held by Informa, the National Association of Convenience Stores, the National Confectioners Association, and the Packaging Machinery Manufacturers Institute as examples of the industry's recovery.

I allowed I was perhaps underestimating tradeshow organizers' resiliency.

But whether you back bulls or bears, don't put your money on these two species: cows and pigs.

They're done for.

Three decades ago, I wrote an investigative article—the first of its kind—for the tradeshow-industry magazine EXPO.

It revealed two best-kept industry secrets: one, that most organizers' shows were cash cows; and two, that most organizers' net margins were piggish—well over 70%.

The article, entitled "Porcine Profits," made a few show organizers uncomfortable; but none disputed its accuracy.

Pent-up, post-pandemic demand notwithstanding, those heady yesterdays are over.

Show expenses are up; show participation, down; and no broad-scale economic rebound is going to change either of those facts.

Organizers are going to have to forget about bulls and bears and cows and pigs, and at last become rhinos.

That, or become dinosaurs.

HAT TIP: Thanks to Dan Cole for introducing me to the rhino.

Burn Rate

Desperate for cash, the organizers of Burning Man are auctioning art to stay afloat another two months, according to Billboard.

The event operator has partnered with Sotheby's to sell 100 works of art, so it doesn't go under before it can begin to sell tickets for its 2022 event. Prices for the art reach into the tens of thousands of dollars.

Burning Man, which normally attracts 70 thousand attendees and generates $43 million in registration fees, has cancelled its annual event two years in a row. CEO Marian Goodell told Billboard his company was in "dire straits."

Will other event organizers follow suit?

Talk about a fire sale!

This Bird

In a recent op-ed in The Washington Post, Tufts poli-sci professor Daniel Drezner justified his attendance of an in-person conference that will take place this weekend by claiming it will allow him "to see old friends, but also to meet new colleagues."

Despite the health risks posed by attending, Drezner wrote, "my benefits far exceed my risks."

Five thousand of Drezner's colleagues disagree. 

The conference he will attend normally attracts 7,500 attendees. But only 2,500 poli-sci professors have registered—and many are cancelling, as opening day approaches.

Live event organizers in every field ought to take notice: poli-sci professors represent the canary in the coal mine.

When two of three customers drop you overnight, it's time to question your value proposition. It's time to stop acting like an ostrich.

Poli-sci professors, after all, aren't fools: they're experts in risk-benefit analysis. And two of three have rendered their judgement: the conference simply isn't compelling enough to ignore the dangers.

Birds of a feather flock together.

This bird has flown.

If the value you provide isn't compelling, yours will, too.

The Elephant in the Room

When we don't tell the truth, and others don't tell us the truth, we can't deal with matters from a basis in reality.

— Jack Canfield

A cheerleader for the event industry recently begged organizers to avoid any mention of what's foremost on exhibitors' minds: attendance.

In an industry that's touted—and inflated—attendance numbers for 70 years, that suggestion isn't merely ironic; it's absurd.

But, as writer Upton Sinclair said, "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it."

When you're the one who's in charge of the circus, there's little sense in denying the elephant in the room.

Exhibitors aren't that stupid.

Don't Let the Bastards Grind You Down

Don't let the bastards grind you down.

— Margaret Atwood

Although brought to its knees by Covid-19, the event industry remains vital—and can be a powerful political voice, when it chooses to be.

It's time for the industry to speak up for women's reproductive rights and boycott Texas.

Trade and pubic show organizers, convention planners, and corporate event marketers should join in solidarity. 

Exhibitors and sponsors should join in, as well. (They no doubt will.)

No events in Texas! None. Not a one.

A 2,000-Year-Old Industry That's Overdue for Disruption (and It isn't Prostitution)

This is the age of disruption.

— Sebastian Thrun

Q: How many industries have remained the same for 2,000 years?

A: Two. 

The first is the "oldest profession," prostitution; the second, the trade-show industry.

That's rather remarkable when you consider the Product Lifecyle Theory.

The theory assumes obsolescence and disruption are baked in, and that only continuity in consumer tastes can forestall a product's inevitable decline.

We know the tastes matched by prostitution haven't changed much—if at all—since Caligula's time. They continue unabated.

Perhaps the same can be said of trade shows. 

As the Ancient Romans did, people still want to meet "face to face" to swap stories and do business, pandemic or no.

The question isn't whether they'll want to continue to do so, but how much? How much will they want to meet face to face—and at what cost and inconvenience?

Show organizers are counting on the answer being a lot.

But their confidence may be based on a pre-virus worldview.

Businesspeople post-virus are favoring smaller, state and regional shows to get their "face-to-face fix," shunning large confabs and southern hot spots.

The days of large national and international shows may at long last be numbered—and their audiences easy pickings for some disruptor waiting in the wings.

I'm hardly the first industry-watcher to say tradeshow organizers' business model is overdue for disruption, and won't be the last.

But 2,000 years is a hell of a long time to grow without innovation.

You Cannot Download Experience

 

We event dinosaurs—who've witnessed and dealt with the long- and short-term effects on face-to-face marketing of recessions, travel-bans, terrorism, pandemics and the web—are frustrated by the industry's vivid demonstration of inaction and incompetence in reacting to Covid-19.

Experience stems from bad judgments. 

But in a youth-oriented, know-it-all society like ours, the lessons learned from bad judgments made in the past are considered trivial; and the dinosaurs who made them, annoying.

It's too bad you cannot download experience with a click.

Gamifying Masks

Event producers who want to encourage mask-wearing at conferences and trade shows should consider what won't work.

Behavioral scientists at the University of London analyzed 65 studies of "failed interventions"—failed attempts to influence behavior—conducted over the past decade.

The researchers found:

• 40% of failed interventions relied on attempted "social norming"—on encouragements to adopt a behavior simply because it's "expected"
  
  
• 24% of failed interventions relied on messaging that was delivered on printed flyers and texts
  
  
• 15% of failed interventions relied on simple "defaults"—opt-in or opt-out
  
  
• 12% of failed interventions relied on product labelling

The findings suggest incentives may be required to persuade attendees to wear masks.

Gamifying mask-wearing—randomly rewarding attendees for wearing their masks—might do the trick.

And sponsors would love to underwrite it.

Mask Politics: Another Threat to Live Events

An association executive, writing on LinkedIn, points out that many of the businesspeople at a live event she attended recently refused to wear masks.

"Masks are politicized," she writes. "Plain and simple. Many, many adults did not wear them. 

The exec sees others' insistence to go without masks ironic, given the purpose of the live event was to cheer on the reopening of live events.  

"For all of the rallying cries of 'working together to get us back to work' in the meetings industry, there were a lot of people who apparently felt their right to not wear a mask trumped everyone else’s shared expectations for safety.”

As long as mask-wearing is political, live events are threatened.

Perhaps eventpeeps should plan two editions of every live event in the future: Coastal (Safe Edition) and Flyover (Superspreader Edition).

Or should they consider my other solution? 

Happy Days

There’s a trick to the "graceful exit." It means leaving what’s over without denying its validity or past importance.

― Ellen Goodman

Job losses in the event industry are staggering, with some estimates exceeding 95%.

But to mention the industry's downturn, or suggest that the happy days are over, is to invite exile.

The holdouts won't have it.

Although the industry's collapse may deserve a speed-record, collapses have happened before. 

Whole swaths of the economy—industries that once employed tens of thousands—have been suddenly, and permanently, eradicated.

Some memorable examples of such now-extinct professions include:

• Badgers. Badgers were loud-mouthed middlemen who hawked farmers' goods at open-air markets. (The profession gave us our verb meaning "to harass.") Grocers made them obsolete overnight.
  
  
• Lamplighters. Lamplighters were driven out of business with the introduction of electrified street lights. 
  
  
• Pinsetters. Pinsetters set pins in bowling alleys before the job one day was abruptly mechanized.
  
  
• Knocker-uppers. Knocker-uppers woke people, using a bamboo stick to rap on their customers' windows. The invention of the alarm clock doomed them.
  
  
• Leech collectors. Leech collectors supplied surgeons with blood-suckers before "bleeding" patients fell out of favor.
  
  
• Resurrectionists. These wily entrepreneurs—also known as "body snatchers"—supplied med-schools with corpses until the use of paupers' bodies was legalized.
  
  
• Computers. Computers—often women—crunched numbers all day, until calculators made their jobs obsolete.
  
  
• Lectors. Lectors sat before factory workers and read aloud from books—sometimes books banned by management—to keep the workers entertained. A union strike in the 1930s put them out of business.
  
  
• Ice cutters. These rugged specialists, who cut big blocks of ice from lakes and delivered them to homes, were frozen out by the electric refrigerator.
  
  
• Milkmen. Every housewife's friend, the milkman suffered the same sad fate as the ice cutter.

The disruption triggered by the pandemic is horrendous. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

But it makes me wonder, can possible good come from the collapse of the event business?

I can think of two benefits:

A cleaner planet. Long before the lockdown, critics of the industry proclaimed the practice of assembling thousands of businesspeople, year after year, to mingle with suppliers and sit through seminars was unsustainable. But event organizers shunned sustainability, because it would slice into their profits. Perhaps tomorrow's organizers, facing a new breed of attendee, will think differently about their carbon footprint.

Better wages. I was among the lonely souls promoting virtual events over a decade ago. (In 2011, with an equally avid partner, I produced a day-long workshop that featured five case studies of successful virtual events. Getting more than a couple dozen organizers to attend the workshop was like pulling teeth, and we discontinued it a year later.) I have long believed that, like Hollywood and IT folks, event professionals can earn better wages as virtual event producers. It's an exciting, emergent field—a veritable "wild west"—and promising territory for those willing to acquire the right skill-set.

For those who can't, or won't, accept that the happy days are over, perhaps it's time for a graceful exit.

The Party's Over

 

That's the great part of capitalism, gales of creative destruction.

— Larry Kudlow

Instead of wringing their hands over the walloping face-to-face has taken, eventpeeps should be celebrating Covid-19 with Larry Kudlow: "creative destruction" has decimated their industry.

And now, after three successive quarters of negative growth, it's time for a sober assessment of where the events industry is heading in 2021 and beyond.

It's heading to oblivion.

Yes, the industry plummeted off a cliff in February, once the organizers of Mobile World Congress called it quits. That event was the first of the big dominoes to topple; the rest of the western world's large confabs quickly followed suit—or wished they had.

But Covid-19 was only a catalyst, accelerating an already-irreversible downward trend. 

As a viable marketing channel, events had peaked before the virus ever left Wuhan, and were inching toward decline. That's for two reasons:

• Exhibitors are done with them. Events are all the things a CMO shuns when choosing a marketing channel. They're expensive, unproductive, unpredictable, unaccountable, unrepeatable, unmeasurable, unsustainable, wasteful and—sad, but true—too much about the salespeople having fun.
  
  
• Attendees, too. Events are all things an attendee shuns when choosing a means to educate and improve herself. They're all of the above—and noisy, to boot.

Eventpeeps predict the channel that's provided their livelihoods will one day rise, phoenixlike, from coronavirus's ashes.

But the hard truth is: it won't. It can't. Covid-19 has clobbered it.

The party's over.

Suite Nothings

At the conventions, fella, everything goes.

— John D. MacDonald

I have been whiling away the lockdown reading John D. MacDonald's "standalone" thrillers, paperback potboilers from the late 50's and early 60's. 

It's no wonder Ian Fleming and French mystery readers loved John D. His prose is pungent and punchy, and his take on Americans' habits raises his work to the level of the "literary" writers of his day (think of Norman Mailer, Kurt Vonnegut, Truman Capote and Gore Vidal).

A Key to the Suite, which earned John D the Grand Prix de Litterature Policiere, “examines the ferment of a big-time convention," according to the cover of the original 1962 paperback.

Corporate hatchet man Floyd Hubbard has been sent by the home office to a trade show. His mission: to dig up dirt on a has-been sales manager, Jesse Mulaney. Management wants Mulaney gone and knows his obsolescence is on full display when he attends trade shows.

But Mulaney's ally, Fred Frick, knows Hubbard has it in for his buddy, and plans to turn to the tables.

Frick hires Cory Barlund, a classy prostitute, to woo the family man Hubbard. He instructs Cory to bed Hubbard, then “make some horribly slutty embarrassing scene" in front of his coworkers—a scene guaranteed to send Hubbard running back to headquarters.

The gorgeous Cory rather quickly seduces Hubbard, but then feels sorry for him and tells him about Frick’s scheme. 

And that's when the fireworks start.

As a veteran of the industry, I'm captivated by John D's taut descriptions of trade shows and the goings-on behind the curtain—both the innocent and the vile.

You find yourself so on edge following the fates of the husbands, wives, whores and hoteliers who populate the pages of A Key to the Suite, you can hardly put it down.

It's gritty realism at its best.

Down for the Count

Last week, The New York Times listed 11 popular pastimes that, thanks to Covid-19, may already be "things of the past."

According to reporter Bryan Pietsch, you should no longer expect to see people:

• Blow out candles on a birthday cake
• Drag on a buddy's vape pen
• Let their kids jump into a ball pit
• Get a department store makeover
• Play in an escape room
• Drink at a crowded bar
• Sip from a scorpion bowl
• Host a poker game
• Perform karaoke
• Shop for pleasure
• Shake hands, kiss, and hug

I'd add a 12th activity you're unlikely to see people engage in again:

• Attend trade shows

Wait, what?

Face-to-face events are vital.  

Schmoozing is irreplaceable. 

Trade shows mean business.

Yes, once upon a time, that was true. 

But the world has been turned upside down by a microbe.

It's hard to imagine a world without trade shows. 

But whoever thought trains, alarm clocks, encyclopedias, maps, drive ins, and pay phones, would disappear?

Eighteen years ago, SARS dealt the trade show industry a body blow; but the disease was contained swiftly, and the industry rebounded.

This time 'round is different. Covid-19 isn't SARS. 

The punches keep coming.

My Take on the Events Industry

Dear Pollyanna:

So sorry to burst your bubble.

The ride you're on is neither brief nor V-shaped. 

Covid-19 has thrust events into an existential crisis.

Whether the crisis was overdue is beside the point.

Everyone knows this year will be seen disruptive.

But no one knows—once we get control of the virus—whether or when the events industry will rebound, or what shape events will take.

Yes, I agree with you: face-to-face fills a Maslowvian need.

But events will have to be reformulated to succeed post-pandemic. 

Attendees aren't going to revert to old behaviors. 

Your can't, either.

If you're betting otherwise, call me.

I have a bridge to sell you.

Event Shock

Brace yourself for Event Shock.

Working with event organizers, as my business partner and I do, I feel their anxiety.

They're constantly worried there's a glut of events. ("With so many events competing for audiences' time, will they pick ours?")

But we've entered uncharted territory.

Organizers once had to contend only with competing organizers.

Now they have to compete with every marketer.

This thought struck me when I received an email today from my neighborhood hardware store promoting an in-store educational event.

Marketers—even the one who works for my local hardware store—have learned that, if they want to seduce customers, sales pitches and discounts are no longer enough. 

They have to deliver educational content.

And their efforts are increasing the volume of events—exponentially.

You thought there was a surplus of events before?

That was nothing compared to the innumerable iterations we're going to experience at marketers' hands in the coming years.

Event marketing has become the new content marketing. 

The event-flood may not rise to the same water-level, because marketers can't outsource events to India, like they can content; but it will feel like it.

The sheer volume of events will be unprecedented.

And overwhelming.

Event Shock is here.

HAT TIP to Mark Schaefer, who coined Content Shock to describe the "tremor" felt when content supply overwhelms content demand.