If only I’d followed my own survival guide.
I spent most of last week at a conference and I’m still not right. Out of compassion for you, dear readers, this Back Page scribbler has put together a conference season survival guide.
Tips for tripping the light fantastic, consequence-free:
- Don’t go
I don’t mean don’t attend. Just don’t go. If the covid pandemic taught us anything, it’s that you can still earn those CPD points remotely. Tune in, keep your pyjamas and slippers on, drink your own (good) coffee and cuddle the cat.
And frankly if that conference organiser hasn’t figured out how to do a hybrid conference four years on from when it was a financial necessity, then it’s not a conference worth blessing with your presence.
- Mask up
If you must go, then for God’s sake, people – you are DOCTORS. You know how much gunge, lurgi and general respiratory soup there is floating around. Is it really so hard to throw on a blue-bagger?
You do it when a patient walks in hacking up a lung, why do you ignore a basic public health precaution just because you’re in a room full of doctors also hacking up a lung?
Be smart, for heckfire’s sake.
- Don’t eat
Or at least, eat early and eat smart. If you’re going to partake of the conference catering get to that table FAST, people. Before the sandwich meat starts curling up. Before the bread gets rock hard. Before the rice goes cold.
Eat lots early in the day and then flush out the salmonella and E. coli with lots of bottled water as the day goes on.
And, for goodness sake, avoid the chicken. Particularly the coagulating lukewarm Thai green chicken curry that has been sitting there since 11.45am and that you haven’t gotten to until 1.50pm. You’re asking for a world of pain and poo.
- Stay close to or in the venue
There is nothing worse, and trust me, I know of what I speak, than surviving a day of endless panels, presentations and papers, then having to face either a huge parking bill and a long drive, an expensive cab ride, or worst of all, public transport at the end of it.
Book digs within walking distance, no more than 500m. Especially if you’re going to do that “networking dinner” or “conference party” in the evenings.
Last week I watched the CEO of a huge national peak body sliding on a pair of comfortable walking shoes, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and sighing deeply as she headed for the front door of the venue. That is not what the life of a CEO should be, clearly.
- Check the fine print
If you are attending the conference party, look closely at the invite.
Last week I watched a respectable medical figure of some repute turn up in full Fat Elvis regalia, complete with sweat and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, because he just assumed it was fancy dress. It was not. Oh no, it wasn’t.
His wife came as – no, not as Priscilla, or a paramedic, that would have made sense – no, she came as Queen Camilla (they bear a passing resemblance).
To their credit they stuck it out through dinner and were a picture on the dance floor at about midnight, I can tell you.
Not that I could see too clearly through my gorilla mask, but I digress.
Look, conferences are fun, in the main. You get to catch up with your mates, meet some new ones, and occasionally learn something while keeping the CPD dial ticking over. Think how much more fun they’d be if you didn’t suffer for a week afterwards.
Let’s be safe out there.
Send your Survivor spinoff pitches and story tips to penny@medicalrepublic.com.au.
