These guys don’t know what they’re doing….

It’s ridiculous! (Massive ENTECH screwups)

As we wade though CX Roadshow registrations online and sort out seminar payments, we reflected on ENTECH FUBAR situations as a form of debrief to double check nothing goes wrong on tour in February.

Try this one. 200 industry people were into their second welcome drink outside the film studio in Waterloo, as the brilliant awards dinner team were inside freaking out because the caterer wanted a seating plan. It was ENTECH 1994, and our first go at organizing an awards dinner.

We never thought of the seating plan. Presenter and comedian Fats Thommo seized the moment, and threw open the venue doors. Standing there in his hot pink zoot suit, he yelled for attention. “I’ve got a table for 10. Come forward if there are ten of you. Not you, idiot, you can’t count….”

He quickly filled up the venue, with a table for 6 matched with a group for 4. Rowdy lighting guys from some company hassled him, “shuddup, dickhead. I’ll sort youse out soon….”

The value of a great presenter was never more obvious than the great Plaza Ballroom Disaster of 1997 in Melbourne. At that one, aside from the small matter of hiring the wrong Mclean audio firm (we got the ‘other’ one, not the ‘great’ one), and the video wall crashing, we had the seating plan sorted. But there were far too many awards.

Enter John Blackman, legendary Melbournian funny guy, who took one look at the running order and yelled for a bottle of Krug. Once practically lubricated, he threw out the list and said ‘Get the chick to sing first, then I’ll sort out your awards”. Yes Mr. Blackman, we said, but when do we tell the band to come on? “Tell them to be ready fifteen minutes after I start”. But what if you run longer, we said. “Just keep them off the grog, they’ll be ready when I’m ready”, he yelled.

Before having John Blackman save our bacon, there was the ticketing debacle for the Venue Management Association, whose convention we managed alongside ENTECH in Melbourne. They had 40 different events, and 300 delegates had selected some or all. So we printed 40 piles of tickets, and were still trying to match registrants with tickets when they started to roll up. It was ugly, very ugly.

One year we did our own seminar ticketing within the Hall (1998, Darling Harbour). Long lines formed at the last minute, as eftpos slowed to a crawl. People were late to sessions, or gave up.

In 2002 the external registration contractor messed up the conference and seminar ticketing, and really long lines again made people mad, especially us as we were paying more than 20 grand to the registration contractor.

The second show, in 1996 featured an ill-fated DJ Competition on the Sunday. Someone else had issued literally hundreds of free tickets without our say so, and we were suddenly overwhelmed with kids. The coat check ran out of tickets for skateboards. The venue security called for reinforcements. The actual sound level in the curtained off venue INSIDE the trade show hall had to get intrusive to work. It was steaming hot, there were probably 900 kids crammed in and many more outside getting rejected. Exhibitors were very unhappy. No one was happy.

The exhibitor fist fights, the accidents with fingers and forklifts, the drugged loaders, hangovers. We had them all.

Finally there was the great drink debacle of 1998 deserves a mention. This was where the event co-ordinator at Darling Harbour double booked the bar. Promised free drinks for an hour after the first day closed, swarms of ENTECH-ers walked down to the Cockle Bay Bar, only to find 200 suited Proctologist conventioneers already in there, in full swing.  They were paying for their drinks, ours were to have been on our tab, ie: we paid.  The bar staff were not informed. “How do we know who is who?” the beverage team leader yelled across the chaos.

“Well, they look like THIS”, I said, grabbing a nearby specialist. They pay you. And we look like THIS”, I said, indicating myself. “Our drinks go on my card”.

It was messy, it was embarrassing, and eventually it didn’t really bother most people too much. And we discovered what it is that proctologists actually do!

Promoting the entertainment biz - school talk memories

To promote the entertainment industry and particularly working backstage in a technical role, I spent five years visiting high schools across NSW speaking to students. Each year we would write to the entertainment teacher, head of drama, head of music and the career advisor offering this free lecture - with 630 schools, that made a lot of letters.

Sure enough, the invites would come, and I'd do maybe 20 to 30 talks each year - often repeat visits for a new class. My target was Year 12, but given the school calendar I would end up with Year 10 and Year 11 as well. My preference was those enrolled in entertainment, or with an interest.

I got my presentation slick, a power point with pictures of me, old shows, disasters at shows, and simple keypoints about the length and breadth of the industry - $5 billion in economic activity, 6,500 full time equivalent technical roles nationwide, the breakup of the jobs. No one ever questioned my research, and the talks always went over well.

But it was the yawing reality of hope, fantasy, ambition, ignorance, wasted opportunity and hopelessness that surprised me. That was just from the teachers. The kids had no idea, and look to their mates, Youtube, rumor and fantasy to try to glean a career path. High school is usually not where decisions or fate determine a career anyway, and the pressure on kids to 'make a choice' is heavy.

In Year 10 kids are brainwashed into making some choice, so there are an ocean of career events. One Year 10 talk in Sydney's west,  the teacher before me labored on and on about his days with some forgotten band, as keyboard player. Sweating profusely in his stretched suit, and looking like he'd added 10 kilo's sometime recently, he bored the kids rigid with his war talk.

'Career Advisers' sadly appear to be misfits within the teaching profession, square pegs who maybe flunked curriculum tests. They do check teachers can read, write and add up, don't they? I mean, proficiency tests during their career? Of course I met some switched on Advisers, but usually not. One invited me all the way to the Riverina, a $400 Rex flight and a 4am wakeup, only to find not three schools consolidated but one confused group of Year 10 who'd been told I would run a workshop for three hours. Which is a far cry from the 40 minute presentation that I delivered, leaving the group shivering in the grey winter half light in a basketball auditorium with one feeble heater. The 'Advisor' was cross that I did not deliver three hours. I was incredulous that she was (a) deluded about the duration; and (b) too lazy to motivate the other two promised schools to attend.

Mainly I met a legion of failed thespians, musicians and dancers who took a teacher job when the band broke up or the auditions flunked. Sure enough, their main focus in their entertainment, drama or music classes was their own specialty, and their own place within the past. Shades of Mr. G, the gay Type A personality nutbag in Summer Heights High.

A few of the teachers actually had good things happening - Cerdon College, Picton High, Blackwattle Bay come to mind.

I probably spoke to 2,500 kids over that five years, and enrolled about 40 of them as a consequence. Considering the course cost them $12,000, that's almost half a million dollars of revenue over five years, in exchange for 100 hours a year, including travel time.

I'd like to think that many more kids than enrolled took note of my message: 'the hours are long, the work is freelance, skills are paramount. Success is not guaranteed. You cannot be a fan, get autographs or go to parties. You will sweat and get dirty'.

Moreso I hope many of the girls got some encouragement when I said they could and should take it on, and we saw a gentle upswing in female enrolments over the time, albeit still never more than 15% female in a class.

But mainly I like to think a lot of kids decided not to chase the dream, because I told them how it was. They probably have rewarding or at least sustainable jobs right now, in some other vocation. At least they didn't waste money and years of their lives.