Events - I am going to say the quiet part out loud

The guy you want to speak to will arrive five minutes before his panel, go straight to the speaker's lounge, and leave five minutes after his panel ends. Guaranteed.

Over the course of my career, I have put together many events, at several different companies, all over the world. The following is one of my favourite stories. It highlights some hard truths about event economics and who is offered platforms to speak.

I was creating a two-day event that needed an affordable yet funky venue. (Sad beige, hotel boardrooms wouldn’t do). I read the prices for a well-known events space in London that looked cool and had experience hosting events for everything from global banking organisations to fashion shows. If you’ve been to an event in London, I am sure you have been there at least once.

The listed fees were at the top of my budget, but I thought a meeting was worth it. The resulting conversation fundamentally changed my attitude to events.

As a journalist, I rarely buy tickets to an event. I’ve often had my travel and accommodation taken care of and sometimes been paid a fee to speak. That is a luxury.

I sat in a cavernous hall in East London, going through our needs for our planned event with a lovely woman in business casual. She turned to me, her face placid and without a hint of amusement that would predicate a joke.

“Will you need toilets?”

For a split second, I was stunned, sure she was in jest. “Um, yes,” I said. “We will need toilets.”

The woman returned to her list and responded: “£20,000”. (that was the cheapest option for toilets)

The conversation went on. Would we need heat? (The event was in February, so yes). Another exorbitant number was added to the bill. Our extravagant need for things like electricity and fees for catering and signage (which I expected to be extra), pushed our ‘top of the budget’ venue into our ‘never could we afford this in a million years’ venue.

The space I was looking at so many years ago is known as a “dry hire”, for those ignorant of the event planning processes. (You lucky, dogs!) That means the fee on the website is for the building only - the bricks and mortar that keep the wind and rain off delegate faces. The things most people expect to see at a two-day event - toilets, rugs, food etc… is extra.

I once had a friend complain that she wasn’t given a “free” ticket to an event she wanted to attend that was being run by an acquaintance. “After all, it’s nothing to him,” she said.

But the fact of the matter is, it isn’t “nothing to him”. Events are an expensive business. Factor in heating, electricity and … you guess it … places to relieve yourself, and every warm body in a venue costs the event producers hundreds if not thousands of pounds. The cost of your entry ticket barely covers it.

I posted a bit of a rant on LinkedIn last week that gained a bit of traction.

The discussion evolved into a predictable commentary on the quality of speakers, pay-to-play business models, and poorly moderated panels where the speakers rarely say anything interesting or even disagree with each other.

On the surface, I agree with all of the comments. At best, events should be interesting, and delegates should come away from the content having learned something (anything!) in between the networking and lead generation opportunities.

But…

Please …

I beg you …

Understand the business model that creates the events we all love to hate. (Trust me, I tried. You can't create the events you want if you aren't making any money).

Hands up, how many of you would like clean, easy-to-find, and plentiful restroom facilities at the events you attend? All of you? That’s great. Please read my little story above, which contains venue prices from EIGHT YEARS ago.

Most events are lead generation and networking opportunities. At least they are sold that way. Events are paid for by the companies who buy sponsorship - signage, catering, and exhibit space. Those companies expect two things: A spot on the agenda for themselves and one for the job titles of organisations they would like to sell their product to. ⇐Notice how I wrote ‘job titles’ and not ‘people’.

One constant experience I have had with almost every event I have curated is the loss of that coveted ‘job title’ from the agenda. Around one to two weeks before an event, a call or an email will come through when we are all in the ‘panel prep’ stage. Guaranteed, it will be from a global head or c-suite executive at a major international bank.

“Hi Liz…” The email starts as my heart begins to sink. “Just to let you know that I have left my [c-suite position at a large global bank], but I am looking forward to the event, can you change my job title to “consultant”.

For F*&%ks Sake!

I now have to tell my boss - who is not in content, but in sales - that the guy he has been telling all the potential sponsors will be at the event, will now NOT be at the event.

I can hear some of you think: “But, Liz, he is still on the agenda, what’s wrong? Maybe he can speak more freely now about his experiences and be more interesting.”

Yes, children, but…(remember the lessons from paragraph one) his job title and organisation will no longer be on the agenda. No one sells an enterprise compliance reporting system to a ‘consultant’. No one tells their boss they bagged a meeting with ‘a consultant’. No one books a follow-up meeting, hoping to make a big sale, to ‘a consultant’. (I could go on).

No one buys an expensive exhibit booth with “interesting speakers” at an event. They sponsor events to get access to people who *may* buy what they are selling.

That is why many panels - especially in our very male-dominated finance and technology sectors - are not diverse. Because, for the most part, the people who have the seniority needed to sit on event stages - at many events - are not a diverse group of people.

(That aspect needs to change, but we have entered an age where you need to read my post from last week :-| )

Now, we come to the part where you ask: “So Liz, how can I get speaking slots at events or podcasts, without having that big fancy job title at the big bank with its own white tablecloth restaurant?”

Very simply, you need to put in the work.

OK one: For events. Start writing. Write on LinkedIn. You can have your blog, website, Substack, whatever. But post that stuff on LinkedIn. That's where our industry is, and that is where event organisers look for speakers. Write regularly and consistently. Write about research, case studies, or just opinions, but write constantly.

Then, you will be called to speak, but be prepared to be the moderator. Being the moderator is a lot of work and is a skill (see LinkedIn rant from last week). Take that role seriously, or you won’t be asked back.

If you are lucky, you may get your travel and accommodation covered, maybe even a fee. (If you want more money, write a book).

Another common occurrence I experience is getting a LinkedIn DM from someone who has just left their ‘big job’ at a ‘big company’ and wants advice on how to get on “some of those podcasts you are always on.” :-|

OK, two: See above and expect it to take a while.

I have an advantage in that it has been my job for most of my career to write for public consumption regularly. I have 30 years of column inches under my belt. Become a voice, make friends with people at events, and publish consistently if you want those podcast invites to come.

I must log off now and write two stories about meme coins and CBDCs. Pray for me.

For your musical finale, here’s a little old-school Madonna for your 80s nostalgia enjoyment.