In my ‘day job’ I usually attend a couple of conferences a year. Obviously last year was an extreme exception. New Zealand is operating at 95% usual settings. The only visible differences in my life are wearing masks on public transport and scanning QCodes when I go somewhere. Definitely a tiny tiny price to pay for zero community spread.
So, with all this normality, conference programmes are popping up in my inbox once more. This poem was inspired when I was reflecting on one of the conferences I did attend this year.
An introverts nightmare Three hundred strangers (Reflecting, projecting) As the profession slowly fractures. There is always one person Asking their incendiary prepared questions Hoping to lay a narrative trap And then we break, conference music bops As we shuffle to some master class or workshop Hands on learning with the experts Who'll hold up their book to quote exerts There was a time when I enjoyed The opportunity to be buoyed But now I'd prefer to be in the office Where I can put ideas into action - make a difference.
Note: In New Zealand buoyed is pronounced like “boy’d” so will rhyme with enjoyed. We also spell program with extra letters at the end, it doesn’t change pronunciation nor make sense to me either!