Our Annual Meeting is a big deal. In the orthopaedic world of Canada – it is THE event of the year. In the world of Cynthia – it is THE event of the year. The stress of putting on this convention and the amount of work involved in unparallel to anything else I’ve ever done. This project is massive and if something goes wrong, it’s usually big and no matter who made the error, it is always OUR fault and up to us to fix it. Wearing a staff badge at this meeting means that all eyes are on you for five very, very long days. Which is why new suits, a hair cut, manicure and pedicure are so important before departure. At least that’s what I’ve convinced Richard into believing ;)
Here is a recap of my 8th Annual Meeting. It is extremely long-winded but it was so hard to wrap it up any tighter and there are so many omissions as it is. I know people like Jenn might appreciate it since she has worked one of these events herself when she replaced me during maternity leave. And perhaps
Lisa (who is my only reader that is not either a blood relative or childhood friend) could browse through this as she nurses her gorgeous newborn Mia.
DAY 1 – TUESDAY
Travel day. I wanted to work until 10:30 that morning to be able to head back home, shower, finish packing, fix my toenail polish that had smooshed the night before, pay my bills and head to the airport in a 12:30 cab. Didn’t happen. Worked until 11:45, rushed home, no shower, no toenails just enough time to finish packing and pay bills. Arrive in Halifax without incident, delay or strip searches at the airport. We head to the
Prince George Hotel which will be our new home for the week.
Check in. The hotel is very nice. Rooms are huge with massive beds. Such a waste considering I’ll likely only spend two hours a night in here.
Meet our boss for dinner at the
Five Fisherman. All you can eat mussels – the best I’ve ever had. God bless the East Coast. After four plates of mussels, I ordered the seafood medley which came with shrimps the size of your fist, pan seared scallops, seafood cakes and saffron risotto. Shared the apple tart with Trinity for dessert. Overly massive meal but we know that we’ll hardly be eating for the next few days so might as well stock up now. Trinity and I walk around Halifax to get our bearings – locate the convention centre and chat with the front desk staff to let them know we’re the honchos of this big shin dig coming to town.
Ironathon begins. Iron #1 leaks its entire contents of water all over my clothes. Call down for another. Wait 20 minutes. Call down again. Iron #2 is likely from 1967. It also leaks but along with the water comes the 40 years of calcium deposits that are likely holding this thing together. I go to Trinity’s room at midnight and snatch hers. I notice that my black and white print dress (brand new with tags) has a water stain on the side. The black pattern is running into the white. While ironing the jacket of my new gray suit, I feel the iron catch on something near the pocket. The store forgot to take off the security tag. I’m afraid to yank it off in case it’s full of dye. Two outfits are in jeopardy and because we already need so many damned clothes for the week, I never pack any back ups. Iron until 1:30 am. I will find time to shop tomorrow.
DAY 2 – WEDNESDAY
Set up day. Our secretariat office is the best we’ve ever had. Huge space with couches, a view of the main street and get this – a TV set. In past conventions, we’ve been stuffed behind coat check counters, crammed into tiny board rooms or we simply share the speaker ready room. My two residents (Ben and Nadia) arrive right on time and we do a walk through, cover last minute details and get ready to stuff registration kits. But the delegate bags are no where to be found. I send the residents home since we can’t do much until the bags arrive. Ben’s wife manages a Roots store so he takes my suit jacket with him to see if she could wrestle off the security tag. I decide to get some lunch and find a replacement for the stained dress. But oh no. Cell phone rings and it's Smith and Nephew. They are to move in a semi-trailer into our exhibit hall that is equipped with a
mobile learning lab. After months of reconfiguring our entire tradeshow to accommodate this beast, we find out that there are lights on the sides of the truck that weren’t in the specs and it won’t fit indoors. My recommendation to saw off the lights is not well received. We now need to contact the Mayor of Halifax to get permission to park it in the street in front of the convo centre. No lunch. 2:00pm and I run into this crappy underground mall that has all of two women’s boutiques. As I’m about to try on some clothes, my cell rings. Residents are back – delegate bags have arrived. Where am I? My residents need instruction and we have 40 minutes to get the bags stuffed. I grab a sleeveless babydoll style blouse and some capris to replace the dress and just hope that they fit.
Stuff kits, get the office set up. AV takes 4 hours to configure the printers. No dinner. Head to the infamous “
Lower Deck” where we are holding a welcome party for the residents. I didn’t have time to dry run the walking instructions the venue gave me and as I work my way to the club, I realize how shaky they are. I already know what’s coming next. Arrive at the Deck. It’s the upper level of a popular club – very Maritime. Celtic rock, hardwood floors, friendly bartenders. I order my first rum and coke and sit at the bar. My cell starts ringing. It’s what I’ve feared. Many lost residents trying to figure out the bad walking directions. Somehow, most manage to make it there and it’s a pretty decent night. I realize how much older I’m getting in comparison to the residents. Anyone even close to my age will be graduating next year. After that, it’s keggers with kiddies for Cynthia. 2 hours sleep.
DAY 3 – THURSDAY
Residents’ Meeting. I host this one solo. Trinity is at a neighboring hotel managing our Committee meetings. AV doesn’t have any of the presentations that were pre-submitted last week. Nothing is uploaded on to the main server yet. Scramble. Ask all my morning presenters to go get their back ups. Programming is now off by 10 minutes. Ick. Around lunch time I try to step over (instead of walk around) some boxes behind my registration desk and the back slit of my skirt rips up about 3 inches. My clothes are defying me on this trip. The day goes fine but we’ve managed to go way over time. Meeting ends 45 minutes over. In the convention world, this is the equivalent to planets crashing. I have to chair the residents’ Board meeting at the end of the day. I’m burnt. No one wants to be there because it’s so late. We burn through the agenda and I finally get back to my room with 30 minutes to shower and get to the boat tour/cocktail that we’re hosting for the residents that evening. Too zonked to rush, I take my time and decide to miss the boat tour. Ben and Nadia could host this one solo. My new outfit is too casual for the evening but I have no other options. I dress it up with some jewelry, 3 inch heels and a cool military style blazer. Head to the docks for the post boat tour dinner. The chicken we ordered is not prepared very well. It was a breast wrapped in bacon with a balsamic glaze. Turned out to be rubbery and as people are being served – more and more are asking for the vegetarian option instead. I had pre-ordered only 5 veggie dishes and in the end, 25 were ordered. I only get one complaint but judging by all the unfinished portions around me, I could tell it wasn’t a hit. At $45 a plate, I had hoped for better.
Ben and Nadia give me a gorgeous glass plate with sailboats on it made by a local artist along with a local blueberry wine. Trinity meets me at the restaurant and we’re both pretty tipsy. She’d been hostessing at the reception we put on for the committee members. The table I sat at only drank the red wine so I had the entire white to myself. The beauty of downtown Halifax is that all the clubs are within a stone’s throw from each other. We went to three that night and on our way to the fourth, I notice my hotel is on the next block so I sneak away and crash. 3 hours sleep.
DAY 4 – FRIDAY
Ben had managed to get the security tag off my suit jacket with a hacksaw. The first day of the surgeon’ s meeting is always the most hectic. Most of the problems surface that day and we have many kinks to work out. I host a luncheon that afternoon for Women in Orthopaedics. There was a misprint in the program at a glance saying that it started at 1:30 versus 1:00. So we have to start late to accommodate those who used the at a glance instead of the full-length program. There aren’t enough forks for the lunch. People are eating their chicken with spoons. I run to catering. Get back to find out the laptop timed out just as the speaker was ready to start. I run to get AV. At 3:00 one of my residents is being presented with an award. At 2:00 I get paged to find out that no one has been scheduled to present it to him. I run through a sea of 800 people trying to find someone who could present it. Crappo hostess. I likely spent all of 10 minutes at the women's luncheon.
Opening Ceremonies. We get all of the dignitaries into procession without much difficulty. The guest speakers are outstanding, the entertainment is fantastic. A 14 year old fiddler who plays some of the best music I’ve ever heard leads us out of the theatre.
That night we also have an exclusive black tie event for our Past Presidents. At one point in time, being elected as President of this Association was one of the highest compliments one could receive. The old guys still hold this honour in high revere. They wait all year for this dinner and many of them fly in to the meeting simply to attend it and go home the following day. This year’s was organized locally – staff had nada to do with its planning. All contracts were arranged by one of our Past Presidents in Halifax.
Reception in the exhibit hall for everyone who is not a Past President. There is a roll of drink tickets in my pocket that are calling my name. There are mussels and fresh oysters and I scoff down about 35 oysters on my way to the bar. I am minutes away from a rum and coke when my cell rings. It’s my boss. The caters have not arrived at the museum where the Past President’s Dinner is being held. The guests are sitting around listing to the harpists with no food or drink. I hang on to the side of the bar to prevent myself from falling down. The caterers made an error and thought it was the following week. This is a massive catastrophe. Trinity and I run to the front doors of the convention centre and grab the yellow pages on our way. We call six restaurants asking if they could receive a group of 60 within the next fifteen minutes. No one can do it. The taxis with the guests start arriving and we’re instructed to fill their hands with drink tickets and invite them back to the exhibit hall reception. Everyone is a good sport about it really. Many of them make their own dinner plans and some tell us that they actually didn’t mind the night off. My hands stop shaking and I have some drinks with two international visiting fellows who are actually quite fun. No dinner (apart from oysters). 5 hours sleep.
DAY 5 - SATURDAY
This day is always much easier. Most of the kinks have been worked out, and I’m getting to the point where I am too tired to care. I host a luncheon that afternoon for our new members. A beautiful filet of Atlantic salmon sits on my plate by I’m too tired to have an appetite any more. After the luncheon I do my run of the exhibit hall trying to sell journal and web site ad space. Novartis is here and they have a new COX2 drug (like Vioxx and Celebrex) so I’m pitching hard. Much to my father’s dismay, I’m a lousy salesman. I have one sales tactic and if it doesn’t work, I simply move on. Running on low fuel and my cheeks hurt from faking a smile for the last three days.
Lobster Bash. Saturday night we’re having the biggest social event we’ve ever pulled off. We rented the Cunard Centre on the waterfront and are expecting 890 people. Trinity and I work the door. I’m wearing a strapless brown and white print dress with a wide brown patent leather belt and ballet slippers. My feet this year have been miraculously spared. Thank you, Fashion Gods, for the ballet slipper this season.
By the time we sit down for our lobster dinner, almost everyone has eaten and the entertainment has started. The 14 year old fiddler is back along with
Bruce Guthro and other local musicians who play East Coast music that is so beautiful, I have to excuse myself for a moment because there are tears in my eyes. Our only complaint that night was that the dancing started a little too late. The party is a hit. A huge weight is lifted because this is what people will remember the most about this meeting. All other ding ups are forgiven if you can put on a good party.
We go to more local bars that night. I don’t recall much after 11:00pm. 50 minutes of sleep.
DAY 6 - SUNDAY
I finally speak to Simon. We’ve realized (by the hard way) that it’s best if I only speak to Simon the day I’m coming home. He gets far too anxious and upset if he speaks to me days before I’m expected back. This way I could tell him that Mommy will be home that night. All week he’d been doing well. No bad behaviour or acting out like we had seen when I was in San Diego in the winter. And no hand, foot and mouth disease, chicken pox or gastroenteritis that we’ve seen in other years. Relief. I miss my boys terribly.
Sunday morning I chair a meeting between a committee of surgeons I put together to develop recruitment and retention strategies. Canadian trained surgeons who want to stay in this country are having a helluva time finding a job and we’re losing them to the states. One of my projects this year is the establishment of a taskforce that will help us develop programs to assist our kiddie docs who are looking for work in Canada. I am horribly, horribly hungover. I manage my way through the meeting but when I now look over my notes that are to be turned into a report and submitted to the Board, they make no stitch of sense. I think I scrawled ‘kill me now’ in every second paragraph.
Later that morning I meet with one of our surgeons who sits on our Communications Committee and we go over developments we want to make to the web site this year. After an hour and half, I can’t even put a sentence together. I pardon myself with the excuse that I need to check out of my hotel (no one needed to know I had scheduled a late check out). I pack, say my final goodbyes and Trinity and I head to the airport. Because everyone is traveling home that day, the airport is crawling with surgeons and we just cannot bear to be on call anymore. We’re done. We want to go home. Trinity and I find a hiding spot in this little airport café and eat some of the best clam chowder I’ve ever had.
I get home that night to my two smiling boys and sleep the entire next day. All in all, if I had to rank this meeting on 10 – I’d give it a 7. Trinity did a fantastic job. It was her first meeting and she pulled it off fabulously. Bravo New Girl!
Next year – Quebec City combined with our American affiliates. Expected attendance = 2500 people.
