Event Planning 101: Make It Easy

Last night, I went to a speed networking event for NESCAC alumni.  I knew going into it that I wasn’t likely to meet a ton of people in public relations, communications, or experiential marketing, since the New England liberal arts schools tend to send most people into finance or consulting.  I figured, though, that I’d hear some interesting stories, see a few familiar faces, and connect to at least one or two people in related fields.  In the end, the evening was a success on the first two counts, at least, though unfortunately on not the third.  From what other attendees told me, they had a similarly so-so experience.

Over the course of the night, I couldn’t help but notice a bunch of ways the event could have gone a bit smoother.  As a veteran event planner, I know that it’s often the things that aren’t explicitly part of an event’s purpose that determine the overall effectiveness of the event.   Get those right, and your guests are much more likely to walk away with a positive impression of your organization, your brand, and your event.  So what are these rookie tips?

1) Be completely ready to go at least 15-30 minutes before the official start time.  As my old band teacher used to say, “Early is on time, and on time is late.”  Even in cities like NYC where “fashionably late” reigns supreme, you will always have a few guests who pride themselves on promptness.  At event like speed networking, where the goal is to meet lots of new people and not just to have fun, you’ll also get early arrivals who want to make the most of meet-and-greet time.  As you can guess, then, I was a bit disappointed that the check-in desk wasn’t even set up until 6 o’clock (the event was from 6 to 8).  By then, there was a huge line of people just waiting and waiting to register—because it took so long to get through the backlog, the entire event started and ended late.  Plus, some people started to get cranky! Not cool. 

2) Tell people where to go.  In other words, you’ve gotta have some signage, or at least a knowledgeable doorman at the entrance.  When all your guests arrive and start milling around the lobby because they don’t know what room the event is in, you’ve got some Sandra Lee-style ready-made confusion.  And then you get that bottleneck at the registration desk when they find out en masse where they’re supposed to go.  ‘Nuff said.

3) Prep your supplies.  Last night, about half an hour into the event, some lady walked around randomly handing out little orange drinks tickets.  Apparently, they forgot to give them out with the rest of the check-in packet.  Well, apparently, at least half the people I spoke to at the end never got their ticket, never drank a single drink, and never plan on coming to another event organized by that school.  The lesson: If you’re not organized, your guests will notice… and you probably won’t see them again.

4) Walk through the night and experience the event in your mind first.  This might actually be the most important tip of all.  I mention it specifically in regards to the floor plan.  Does the location of the bar make sense?  Is there enough room around it for people to wait their turn to be served?  How about the hors d’oeuves?  Is the buffet in a place where people can see it?  No one wants cauliflower in a corner.  Pretend you’re one of the guests, and go through the entire event before it happens.  Walk the room in your mind’s eye, pretend you’re thirsty, or have to go to the bathroom, or want to stand around talking to a friend, or need to take a load off.  Anticipate your guests’ needs, and do what you can to make the night a pleasant one.

5) Serve water.  Yeah, I know this one sounds like the biggest no-brainer of all, but I guess it isn’t, particularly at drink-ticketed soirées.  Remember, not all your guests are going to want an alcoholic bevie, especially at a professional event.  I’m not saying you need a selection of ten pops, a fancy French lemonade, and three punches.  Plain ol’ tap water with ice’ll do.  In fact, in these anti-plastic bottle times, it’s probably the best option.  Even if you have a makeshift bar in a corner with no tap, you can give your bartender a couple of pitchers de l’eau.  Trust me, you really do not want your guests scrounging up empty cups to fill in the bathroom sinks (true story, I’ve seen it).

6) Don’t use your inside voice.  If you need to make any announcements, speak up!  (Admittedly, this usually isn’t a problem for me!)  Clueless people in the back aren’t having fun.  Even better, if you know ahead of time that announcements will be necessary, get a mike.  Whatever hotel or venue you’re in likely rents them out.  Similarly, if you know you’ll need some sort of sound effect (i.e. a chime to tell people when to switch seats), make sure it’s something people can hear.  At the very least, bring a bell; don’t rely on the gentle tinkle of knife against glass.

7) Evaluate.  I’m not talking about crunching the numbers after the fact (that’s a whole other monster).  I’m just saying, go, talk to your guests.  If they’re engaged during the events, chat with them afterwards.  When they’re on their way out, say you hope they enjoyed the event.  Trust me, you’ll be able to tell if they got something out of it—if they didn’t, you’ll see that glazed look of faked politesse.  Or, while everyone is gathered around wrapping things up, walk around and ask them what they thought.  Depending on the circs, you might even be able to ask them how the event could have been improved.  Even if you just talk about the weather, engaging them on a personal level will make your guests feel like more than their ticket price, and it’ll boost their regard for the hosts, the event, and, in turn, the organization.

I think that, in the end, this all boils down to one morsel of event-planning goodness: Make it easy.  If you make it so that your guests can float through the evening on a cloud of convenience, they’ll leave thinking, Wow, that sure flew by! Guess I was having fun!  Show them you know what you’re doing at the party, and they’ll assume you know what you’re doing behind the business scenes.  An easy event fills attendees with confidence and goodwill for your organization. And really, isn’t that the goal?

Principle #3: Flexibility

I’m baaaack!!!

In all seriousness, though, I’m aware that I’ve been gone from this blog for about thirty internet lifetimes.  So, if I’m lucky, about one half of one percent of you, my readers, will actually be reading this post.  We move on fast.  If you’re still here, stick with me a bit longer, and I’ll get to the good stuff.

You see, there’s a reason for my absence.  Sometimes, life just takes over—real life, I mean, that thing that takes place away from a keyboard and even (gasp!) away from New York City.  As you all know, I’ve been doing the job seeker thing, with the requisite networking events, countless cover letters, and all that other good stuff.  In the midst of my job-seeking job, though, I’ve also had to get out of my desk-bound bubble and meet the rest of life head-on.  Over the past few weeks, my family put down our thirteen year-old dog, I flew to Chicago to say goodbye to my grandmother, and I halfway moved back home to New Jersey to help out my mom while she goes through cancer treatment.  On the good side, my sister flew in from Kansas for a few days, as did my dad from Switzerland.

As you can imagine, this hasn’t left much time for blog writing, or Twittering, or any of the other online life-making I usually do.  Goodness gracious, I’ve barely even kept up with my email inbox, that most old-fashioned part of the web. 

Throughout all this craziness, I’ve been constantly reminded of… wait for it… my third guiding principle, flexibility.  Two posts ago, I wrote about the importance of having focus, a sense of purpose as you work towards a goal, and I do still think it’s a vital trait.  Yet the flipside is just as crucial, because if the past few weeks have shown me anything, life is going to throw you a change-up just as you’re getting ready for a fastball.

In business, too, things can change shockingly quickly.  Your mentor-boss can suddenly leave the company.  Your target demographic can stop shopping and start saving.  Heck, you can spill water on your keyboard, putting the brakes on that big project while you wait a day for a new typer. 

The key in these situations is to take a breath and a moment to process, adjust your existing plan to the new circs or even figure out a new one, and keep moving forward.  Sometimes, of course, it won’t feel like forward.  It’ll feel like sideways or even backwards.  Yet if you could just zoom out for a moment, you’d see that in the long run, you are making progress.  It just might not be the same type of progress you thought it’d be.  As long as you took that moment and made those adjustments, though, you’d likely still be on the right track.  Even better, you might’ve made some interesting discoveries along the way, ones you’d never get to find on that old, obsolete path.

In my own case, I never expected I’d be unemployed three years after graduating from the best school in the country.  I’d always worked hard, been creative, and done good work.  Now I find myself out of a job and looking for a new one in a field in which I have little-to-no academic training.  Don’t get me wrong, I still think I’m prepared, and I’m confident I’ll do darn well once I get my foot in the door.  It’s true, though, that I now face the prospect of proving myself all over again, fighting with twenty year-olds for internships when my best friends are VPs.  Definitely not what I ever expected from myself.

Yet the situation has also been a blessing in disguise.  Since I’m not working on someone else’s clock, I’ve been free to spend most of my time in NJ, helping out my mom during her treatments.  My entire family lives much farther away, in different states or even countries, so I am pretty darn glad God has worked things out this way.  That’s not to say that I spend my days skipping around strewing daisies.  Rather, I try to remind myself that I’m not working, which means I can be with my mom, which means I am lucky enough to be able to put family first in a very real way, and my own career is going work out in its own time and in its own way.  A crazy train of thought, but true, I think. 

In the meantime, I do keep working to find another job, and I keep working to remember that I will be successful again.  A delay isn’t the same thing as failure.  And if all else fails, I go eat chocolate ice cream and watch The Andy Griffith Show with my mum.

Chocolate-Sweet Potato Snacking Cake

Scroll about halfway down the post if you just want to get to the recipe!

Over the past few months, my mom and I have partnered up in an effort to eat healthier.  In the process, we’ve started a new tradition between us—Saturday Snacks.  For most of the week, our snacks and desserts fit squarely into our unprocessed, close-to-the-ground eating style—things like strawberries, or a few carrots with hummus, or some thinly sliced apples.  Every Saturday night, though, we get a treat, and (because we’re chocoholic bakers) it’s usually a piece of cake.  Of course, we’ve been trying not to go too overboard, so I bake a new cake from scratch every month and a half or so, and I always stuff some veggies in it somehow.  The first batch was a relatively standard zucchini-chocolate chip cake.  Then we tried a chocolate-beet cake; I wasn’t a fan, but it’s my mom’s new favorite (I’m talking rave reviews).   

All these chocoveg cakes got me thinking about other potential combinations.  After a tasty sweet potato mash for dinner one night, it struck me that chocolate and sweet potato would probably go well together (I made a tasty Martha chocolate-pumpkin tart this past fall, which I guessed would have a similar flavor profile).

The recipe that follows is actually my second attempt at this recipe.  The first used all whole wheat flour, less sugar, and room temp butter.  Though it was a bit healthier, the flavor and texture just didn’t work.  The next time around, I played around with the mixing technique, added some AP flour, and shifted the flavor. It's not quite as virtuous, but it's still delicious!

The end result is a pretty good snacking cake, if I do say so myself.  The texture is somewhere between a cakey brownie and birthday cake.  I think the sweet potato adds that bit of fluffy chew you sometimes get with potato breads (sounds a bit strange, but it's actually quite satisfying), as well as a nice roundness to the sweet taste.  The nutrient boost goes without saying, of course.  If you really want to finish the cake off, I suppose you could sift over some powdered sugar, but three out of three testers agree that it’s more than satisfying without.  I’ll definitely be having this for the next few weeks' Saturday Snacks!

 

Chocolate-Sweet Potato Snacking Cake
Makes 24 rich squares

¾ cup whole-wheat flour
¾ cup all-purpose flour
½ cup cocoa powder
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp salt

¾ cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 stick (½ cup) butter, melted
½ cup water
2 cups mashed or puréed sweet potatoes (about 2 large sweet potatoes)
1 cup (4 oz) semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat over to 350 degrees.  Grease a 9”x13” glass cake pan with baking spray; I like the kind that has flour mixed in.

In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients (flours through salt) until the mixture looks uniform and any clumps are broken up.

In a separate bowl, beat together the eggs and sugars until glossy.  Add vanilla, melted butter, and water, and beat until well incorporated and even glossier.

In three additions, add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients until just moistened.  Add the sweet potato purée and chocolate chips, and mix well.

Spread the batter in your prepared pan.  Bake for 40-45 minutes (start checking at 35 minutes for doneness); a toothpick should come out clean, and the edges should pull away from the sides of the pan. Let cool for a few minutes before serving, if you can resist!

Focus: Getting to the Other Side

As I explained in my previous post, I’m going to use the next few entries to explain a couple of principles that have guided my career thus far, whether or not I’ve known it consciously at the time.  Last time, I discussed authenticity: how knowing myself, my strengths and weaknesses, and my values has helped me find success. 

Today, I’d like to talk about focus.  I think it follows naturally after authenticity, because knowing what’s important to me has been a crucial enabling element in going after my goals.

When I was in the middle of the sixth grade, my family moved to Virginia.  It was our third move in two and a half years.  When I got to school, I learned that most of the students were in band.  Having played viola a few years earlier (that stopped when the moves started), I liked the idea of joining the band but didn’t have know how to play any of the instruments.  So, the summer before seventh grade, two years after the other kids, I started taking flute lessons. 

The first month, I could hardly get a sound out.  I’d hold the mouthpiece up and just blow for an hour, hoping for a whistle by the end of it.  The second month, I couldn’t get my fingers to move fast enough.  I’d stand in the sunroom, eyes closed, and play the same scale over and over again for an hour.  The third month, I joined Mr. Jenkins’ band class for the new school year.  At the end of seventh grade, I got the award for most hours practiced, and I joined the high school marching band.

In ninth grade, my family moved to New Jersey.  Over the next few years, I played in concert band, wind ensemble, and marching band, eventually getting to top positions in each.  I took my high school’s music theory classes and private lessons.  I played recitals, and went to chamber music camp.  I made it into county and regional bands and flute choir.  I often played five hours a day.

I decided to learn flute, and I did it.  I decided to get better, and I did it.  I looked for all the opportunities around me where I could learn more and expand my experiences both outwards and upwards.  When I started in seventh grade, I didn’t know chamber music camp or regional bands existed, but I took the first step.  Then I saw where my next step could be, and I took that one.  I kept going and eventually got good at it.

I think that happens in a lot of things in life, and particularly in careers.  You set yourself a goal across the way, and you go for it.  You look at all the possible stepping stones in front of you, and you pick one.  You decide to stick your foot onto that rock in the middle of the currents, and you do it.  It might be slippery and you might wobble, but you stick the step.  Then, once you’re steady, or close to it, you look for the next step and you take it.  You might have to move a little to the left or the right rather than straight ahead, but eventually you move forward.  You looked ahead, saw where you wanted to be, and you made it there, right in time to cross the gorge just adjacent.

Right now, I’m facing that gorge.  I’ve crossed the brook since graduating from college, and now I see my next challenge, getting into Career #2.  I’m not totally throwing out my event planning experience; rather, I’m adding to it—expanding upwards and outwards again.  I’m taking a PR writing class to develop my media relations skills; I’m taking French classes to one day get me to Paris; and I’m meeting with experienced gorge-crossers and writing countless cover letters to get me a precious foot-in-the-door job.  I’ve decided what I want to do, and I’m focused on figuring out how to do it.  That’s part of how I’m going to be successful in this new adventure.

I’m standing on the edge of the abyss, taking a deep breath, and stepping onto the first precarious plank of the bridge, focused on the other side.

Guiding Principles: Authenticity

If you’re a regular reader of Dirt and Diamonds, you’ve probably noticed it’s been a while since I last posted.  There’s a good reason for that: I started actively looking for a new job recently.  I began researching potential companies last week, and as it turned out, many application deadlines for summer internships were March 1 or 2.  (Yes, I said internships—even though I’ve been in the work world for a while, PR is a new field for me, which means I’m starting at the bottom again.)  I know the best way to find a job is through personal referrals, but I wanted at least to get my name in the pool.

In the course of writing a bunch of cover letters, I had plenty of chances to reflect upon the things I think have made me successful thus far.  I think they’re also the traits that are going to help me as I move through my new career in public relations (or in anything, really).  In the hope that they might help you, too, I’ll be sharing them with you on this blog over the next few posts.  Let’s get started:

Authenticity

The times when I’ve most (and most easily) excelled have been when I’ve been true to myself. Conversely, the times when I’ve felt out of place have been when I lost sight of what makes me me or of what I valued in the environment or people around me.

It sounds obvious to say, “Play to your strengths,” but it really is true.  When you’re young, it also is harder than it seems.  No matter how strong your values system or clear your sense of your capabilities, it can take time to figure out how this fits into your career, or into any career for that matter.  Coming from a liberal arts background (art history, geology, and constitutional law, anyone?), I didn’t have four “safe” college years to get professional training and to test out my aptitude in marketing or engineering or whatnot, at least as far as industry-oriented classes were concerned.   I was lucky enough to go to a student-driven school, Williams College, so I got a ton of leadership experience through my extracurriculars; those soft skills, though, don’t necessarily lead to a clear-cut choice when it comes to real-world job paths.

The one thing that has stayed constant, whether through the college-work world transition or through this career shift I’m currently going through, is myself.  When I’ve jumped feet-first into a new pool, I’ve been able to rely on those things inside of me which don’t change.  I know that I’m driven and results-oriented.  I also know that I have a strong moral compass; I want to succeed but I’m not willing to lie or take shortcuts or knock down other people to do it.  I like social jobs, but I also need space to step up to lead and sometimes work a bit independently (I’m a typical Type A, in that I occasionally want to just get things done).  Knowing these things about myself has helped me find the best way of working where I’ve been and hopefully is now guiding me to Successful Career #2 in public relations.

I recently read a book called Expect to Win by Carla A. Harris.  One of her main points is that you must be authentic to succeed.  It really resonated with me—I felt like I was reading my own philosophy!  If you want some practical tips about how to put this principle into action, I’d definitely urge you to check it out.

Anyway, stay tuned for three more of my guiding principles.  Next time:  Focus.

A Different Tack: My Branded Portfolio

Scroll down to the bolded text for details about my new portfolio.

For those (very few) of you who aren’t aware of it, I’m back in the job hunt pool yet again.  Even though I knew when I took my last job that it had a specific, scheduled end date, it is still a bit of a bummer to go through the unemployed chick rigmarole.  When even the most well meaning friends and family ask what I’m up to, I sometimes feel like exclaiming wide-eyed, “I’m looking for a new job—really!  I promise I am!  Even if you can’t tell…”  Instead, I give ‘em a big smile, mutter something about how tough times make for slow progress, and crack a joke about how awesome it is to have so much free time. 

Yet a bit of frustration persists.  I mean, I know I have the potential to do well once I get a job.  I’m a smart enough girl, and my old bosses would agree that I do really deliver.  (I promise!  They told me so!  Again with the pleading…)  Once I get my foot in the door for an interview, I tend to go far, even if in the past I ended up losing out to internal candidates or sudden hiring freezes. 

This time around, though, I have an extra obstacle to confront: I’m technically changing careers, and my lack of industry-specific experience is showing its ugly side.  You see, I started out in the art world, which most people consider too academic or simply too soft and skill-free.  Throughout my career, though, even back into college, I’ve specialized in skills that I’ve been hoping to transfer to a career in public relations/communications.  I’ve always been involved in long-range strategic projects with both big picture and tiny details thinking.  I’ve planned bunches of events with the goal of enhancing or even changing an organization’s image (brand).  I’ve had to communicate all this thinking and planning, and get the word out about upcoming events and past successes, and simply tell the story of why these happenings could be good things for the people they were happening to/for.  These are the types of things that fire me up, and I’m really looking forward to using them in a more business-oriented arena.

The thing is, it’s not easy to get this word out, especially to people who actually have some hiring influence.  So this time around, I am concentrating on defining my personal brand, which I’m praying will illustrate my (I think!) abundant potential to possible employers.  My dad always says that people can show you the doors, but you have to be the one to walk through them.  Well, before I can boogie on through, I first have to swing those doors wide open. 

One of the tools I’m using to pry open the portals this time is a great portfolio.  Previously, I’ve done the traditional resumé and cover letter combo, on nice linen stock when permitted or via email when required.  This time, I’m taking it all a step further.  I’m in the process of assembling a portfolio that says this is who I am, this is what I’m about, and this is what I bring to the table. 

In it, I’m obviously including the basics like a resumé.  This version is in the less-popular functional format—like I said, I do have skills, but when they’re smack up against art world or college jobs, they’re really downplayed.  The context is actually a bit of a hindrance here.  This time, my accomplishments will speak for themselves.  I’m also including the cover letter—not much room to play around here but crucial for all the obvious reasons. 

I’ll also include samples of my work: probably good color copies of excerpts from newsletters I wrote and produced, perhaps a (non-confidential) page from an employee handbook I created, maybe a (again non-confidential) section of a strategic plan I created, and likely a portion of an academic paper from college to show I can carry an extended train of thought at a high level.  I’m putting in a few general recommendations from previous employers, too.

The pièce de résistance will be the packaging: I’ve ordered these simple teal folders to hold all the documents (resumé and cover letter on one side, samples and recs on the other).  They’re not fancy, but they say organized, effective, and a bit different, which is what I think I am, too.  Tucked into the business cards slot of each folder will be my personal card.  After months of deliberation and a few aborted previous attempts, I took the plunge yesterday at the UPS store.  I will soon be the proud owner of a simple yet chic card: three lines of text in a deep, not too girly pink, stylized font on white linen stock.

Since I don’t have every component in hand right now, I haven’t yet tested the effectiveness of my new portfolios in getting me to those doors.  I do think, though, that they will communicate my personal brand more clearly and loudly than the old cream-colored res/cover combo.  Please notice me now, PR HR people!  I can do the job, if you just give me a chance.

image from Staples.com

Food Matters

If I have one reading recommendation for the next month, it’s that anyone and everyone pick up Food Matters by Mark Bittman.  For those of you who don’t know who Mark Bittman is, he’s a food writer for the New York Times (The Minimalist, Bitten) and the author of the How to Cook Everything cookbooks.  His prose and recipes are both marked by a straightforwardness that belies their carefully composed, nuanced insightfulness.

In any case, Food Matters will make you immediately rethink the way you eat.  Bittman has packaged the biggest food issues of the day—the way food affects the environment, the impact it has on our health, and how to make it taste good—in a way that ties it all together in one thought-stopping package.  Now, I know a decent amount about these issues, so I don’t often learn something new that stops me in my tracks.  Bittman presents such a compelling argument, however, that in the past month, I’ve actually decided to reproportion my plate, stuck to it, and lost a few pounds.  That is a rarity.

So what is Bittman’s spiel?  Americans eat too much meat, soy, and corn (especially in the form of high fructose corn syrup), the production of which has a massive impact on the environment.  In case you didn’t know, livestock are one of the biggest producers of greenhouse gases, especially methane—in fact, livestock account for a full fifth, more than transportation.  Those foods (meat, soy, and corn) also have a disproportionate effect on our health, due to unbalanced nutritional standards.  What we really need, Bittman says, is a return to sane eating, a way of living that lets us enjoy the pleasures of food (not surprising, from a career food writer) while minimizing our diet’s deleterious impact on the global environment and our health.    

The solution to this conundrum is simple—consume fewer animal products (perhaps a pound of meat weekly), stuff your face with plants, and treat everything else like, well, a treat.  If this reminds you of Michael Pollan’s mantra (“Eat food.  Not too much. Mostly plants.”  And food means natural food, like your grandmother would have recognized growing up.), it is.  If you ask me, that echo is more than okay, because it’s about right.  Personal nutrition, the crashing-and-burning environment around us, the food policy that shapes most Americans’ food choices, and the simple fact that food should be real and, more to the point, tasty—these things are all intertwined, and it’s time we take heed and take action.

To get the reader on his way, Bittman includes more than 75 recipes (for all three meals, plus snacks and basic kitchen building bones) that jive with his conception of sane eating.  Like those in his Minimalist and Bitten columns, these recipes let the food itself do the talking.  The ingredient lists are reasonably short (or at least without unnecessary flourishes), and the directions are clear and conversational.  The result is food that tastes like what it is and that you can enjoy guilt-free (dietary or otherwise).  Even better, Bittman provides variations for many of the recipes to show inexperienced or by-the-book home cooks how to work with what you have or want, or what is in season.  More-Vegetable-Than-Egg Frittata morphs into Better Poached Eggs, Orchiette with Broccoli Rabe transforms into Baked Ziti, and Apple Crisp simplifies into Roasted Fruit.  How can you not want to eat like food matters with recipes like that taunting your taste buds?

So go out, get this book, get thinking, and get eating.  It’ll change the way you look at your lunchbox, guaranteed.