“The job of feet is walking...

but their hobby is dancing”--Amit Kalantri

Are you like me? Do little grievances set up shop in the back of your brain? Recently, I was the closing keynote for a notable conference. In person conferences were returning and this was the rescheduling of a conversation I was looking forward to sharing with this particular audience.

Opening keynote was recorded with much fanfare. Closing keynote—nothing.

What does this communicate to attendees? To the speaker? About perceived interest in the topic?

Why assume it was personal. I don’t think it was, necessarily. Decisions like this point to the clouded optics around organizations speaking about diversity and inclusion. No bitter pills here due to the connections and conversations my talk provided for weeks after the session. But I did need to ask a colleague from the audience to advance my slides since I couldn’t be standing at the projector and engaging with the room simultaneously.

Typically there are additional screens placed midway through a large and deep conference room—not the case on this occasion. Maps and other visualizations were definitely not clear for the back two-thirds of the space.

I also had to test the lighting of the room and select the best options. And return prior to my presentation to change them once again. The room should not be lit for attendees to answer email, send texts, or keep up with their office shenanigans during a carefully designed and delivered technology discussion.

This incident was top of mind because lately it wasn’t unique—at least in my experience. Perhaps opening keynote was a sponsor. Not a reason to not value both keynotes equally but I have been involved in the machinations of conference speaking engagements to see the forest through the trees.

Fast forward a few months and I am a co-chair for a diversity and inclusion initiative for a well-known technology conference. I quickly realized assumptions of travel expenses being covered by organizers was a non-sequitur that I honestly didn’t see coming. I declined the travel and waited for organizers to accept a hybrid format allowing for remote participation.

Heedless pursuits of the right to claim being diverse and inclusive are comical. You KNOW why hybrid conferences delegitimize diverse participation—including a panel discussion about the very topic you spent minimal time examining is not a solution.

Over a decade ago speaking at conferences was less feral. Entire hotel suites were dedicated to speaker review to confirm preparedness, technologic compatibility, and lingering concerns about how the room would be set up for maximum visibility and engagement. Honoraria did not need to be requested, it was presented post-meeting at the podium after the last participant had the opportunity to ask questions. Your job was to share your expertise. Not also be the tech and audiophile.

Last month while presenting at an international conference with a hybrid format I did have to troubleshoot an internet outage across the ocean. Powerpoint is never my first or second choice but as a speaker I keep a deck—backed up to perfection—just in case. Think Julia Child keeping an already cooked dish ready, just in case, in a studio oven.

I decided simply to go live from where the recording stopped. Many international conferences request a high quality recording with the speaker actually live in the chat. Recompense was immediate as the tech team and I conversed and decided I should simply step in live and take the conversation forward in a conversational tone.

This is the level we need to bring to our conference stages.

Be prepared.

Be sincere.

Don’t bring hamburger helper to a Beef Bourguignon audience.