Worked an event last week for the first time as a project manager. Absolutely exhausting and so many things didn’t go the way we planned them, but the activation itself was a huge success.
So thankful to have gotten the opportunity to show what I can do when I’m in charge, and for it to have gone well and have the crew happy with their experience for the most part. Definitely a special week and towards the top of my events experience list.
I never want to claim that “we’re a family” here because that gives such negative connotations for a work/life balance and what is expected of you from a corporation, but I feel like we strike a good balance of keeping aligned with corporate policies and making sure contractors are treated fairly and with respect and paid the way they should while still having a strong amount of personal respect for each other. When you’re thrown into the chaos of live event work and have each other to lean on, it’s a nice bond. I know that people have a tendency to come back to work for the company even after they leave because of that (hell that’s exactly what I did too), the people who work here are great even if the company and it’s structure can frustrate us some days.
Time to sleep and close out budgets and paperwork, then onto the next one!
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Id like to let you know that I recently lost my annotated and very well-loved copy of Fragile Things in the San Diego Airport.
Rather, I lent it to a goth kid who'd been sitting next to me and wanted to know if I had an Android charger. I did. She plugged her phone in, and a pinhole light on the screen blinked into life. We both looked at the otherwise dead screen for a moment, and I asked her where she was flying to. New York, she said.
Then she asked me what book I was reading - Fragile Things, I told her, by the same guy who wrote Coraline. What's it *about*, though, she asked again.
Im at best a mediocre writer, so I rather gave her the book than trying to explain things myself. I figure some folks get Hugos for writing stories, and I should let 'em do it.
She didnt seem to mind my scribbles in the margins, and it was fun, watching a painted face that looked so somber and serious just a few minutes ago smile. A Study in Emerald had its surprising share of humour. After a while, I stopped paying attention and scrolled absentmindedly through my phone.
Then I hear my flight called - San Diego to Philadelphia, the boarding now, group C, C as in Coconut. I grab my bag, my phone, my ticket, pat my pockets down for my passport, my overstuffed backpack, precariously balanced on my carryon luggage, my headphone wires tangled in the strap of my purse and jerked out of my ears. I trot hastily over to the gate check - a smile, a beep, and I'm shuffled down the gangway and into the plane. My things stowed, and myself cozy against the window.
This was when I went to reach for my book, and realised that it was missing - still nestled comfortably in the hands of a 15-odd goth.
I miss my book. It had many memories in it, beyond the stories told there. My grandfather was still alive when i first read Fragile Things, and he was the one who gave it to me. But I hope that the kid who has it now will also love the stories you wrote. I hope maybe she will remember me and our little story, that we now share. Maybe she will also keep other memories of her own in there.
It seems an oddly fitting way for me to part with this book. It was an old fragile thing, given to me by a fragile man, and left to a child with whom i had only a fragile, tenuous connection.
Or maybe I'm reading too much into things, i don't know.
At any rate, if you read all this rambling, thank you mister Gaiman.
I hope it was the book she needed.
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