Well, I soon find out what I’m getting myself into: emails. Heaps of emails. And phone calls and meetings and discussions.
As it so happens, organizing an event is a lot of work. For instance, the invitation – one of a myriad of details – takes hours to perfect. It must be written, vetted by my marketing manager, sent to other Lufthansa departments, and then run through Company X. All of these people have different mandates and perspectives, and as the seventh draft comes back with revisions to be made, I glare at my computer screen, willing the Word document to just shrivel up.
The eighth time, however, is the charm; I send that draft off to our graphic designer, who produces the most gorgeous invitation using archival photos I’ve found. I’m contemplating it with admiration (and yes, a hint of smugness) when I receive a phone call from the corporate account manager. She is happy.
My jaw drops (it really, literally does) as I listen to her. We’ve invited several top-echelon customers, including a few CEOs and directors. These were token invites, as we never really expected them to accept. She’s just heard back, though – they and their spouses would all love to come.
There’s a slight tingling in my limbs, heralding either an imminent heart attack or acute excitement. Fervently hoping for the latter, I dash over to my marketing manager to share the great news. As I return to my desk, though, the full impact of that phone call hits me.
I am now helping to organize an event that will involve the top management of multinational corporations and respected Canadian institutions. This will also be the first event for my new boss who will start work in Toronto the week before.
I really, really need to not screw this up. I scrunch my eyes closed and make a wish to that effect. Unfortunately, I’m not wholly convinced of its efficacy.
The pressure is on…