Random Thoughts On Conferences Part One

My next few blogs will be devoted to the subject of continuing education and veterinary conferences.  I have been to several conferences in Las Vegas, mainly during my stint in the Army Veterinary Corps.  I figured when they asked where I wanted to get my CE at, Vegas seemed a perfect choice, especially since the military paid for it.  No matter how many times I tried, though, I could never get a per diem reimbursement for the gambling.  I went to one AVMA conference in Kentucky - I don’t really remember how I got talked into that one.  Since I am now based in Florida, the Orlando NAVC conference is a natural place to go.  In our practice we trade off when we go so I only have to be dragged kicking and screaming to it every two years.  I offer the above as my credentials for the following.

One of the things you get introduced first-off, especially at the Orlando conference, is the ubiquitous badge card.  This is when you realize that large animal practitioners are in charge of keeping track of people.  At conventions of yesteryear they used to ear tag or brand attendees.  I know of one event that simply marked each person as having paid by rubbing an orange crayon on their forehead.  In these more PC times, though, these methods are frowned upon, much to the mutterings of “sissified wimps” by some of the older vets as they proudly display their faded 1955 AVMA attendance brands.  I am amazed at how many sheeple hang the badge card around their necks by the conveniently-provided collar.  You can almost hear a subtle lowing arise from the group of vacant-stared veterinarians as they get herded through narrow corridors from one room to another hoping to get a meal from the education trough and not a stun-bolt to the head.  (By the way, what would a group of vets be called?  I suggest a villein.  A villein of vets.  Look it up and let me know if you think it works.)

I don’t wear my badge.  I don’t for several reasons.  First, "I don't need no stinkin' badges!"  Ok, I had to get that one off my chest.  Thank you for your indulgence.  Another is, I like to keep the door guards on their toes.  Think about it.  If you think we’re bored, how do you think these guys feel?  They go through extensive training and preparation, akin to the Secret Service team sent ahead of presidential visits.  It is a daunting task protecting the integrity of honest veterinarians’ registration fees from unconscionable lecture- and exhibit hall-crashers.  They maintain their unflagging vigilance every day while screening thousands of potential intruders in underhanded attempts to get hold of the conference’s classified information.  And what do we do?  We just put our badges on and make their job easier and more boring.  Well, not me!  I tuck that card in my back pocket and I test their alertness everyday.  I usually approach the doorway in a nonchalant fashion, maybe pretending to check my conference schedule or absently looking around, to see how close I can get before setting off their hyper-acute senses.  Just as their eyes narrow, their nostrils flare, and they reach with lightning-quick reflexes for their side-arms, I whip out my badge!  Then their faces drop in both disappointment and incredulity.  I can almost see them thinking, “Oh, man, I almost had one!”  It must keep their adrenaline up for at least, oh, 30 - 40 seconds as they scan the rest of the crowd for some other trouble-maker.  Now, there was that one guy that tazered me even after seeing my badge, but I think he was just being vindictive.

The other reason I don’t wear my badge is to keep the exhibit hall booth people honest.  Has anyone noticed that you will sometimes get treated differently depending on the color-designation on your badge holder?  One of my technicians had borrowed a badge that had a grey label on it that represented Lab Help.  She couldn’t understand why no one really wanted to talk or spend time with her.  Maybe the veterinarians don’t wonder particularly why some of the booth sales people will look furtively down at the badge hanging around their neck before smiling broadly and producing all sorts of discounts and freebies.  I like to keep my badge in my pocket and go into some of these booths if only to see what reception I get.  There are a few wily ones who will use leading questions in an attempt to find out if I’m a practice owner, or a technician, or a spouse of a veterinarian.  It’s amazing how you can answer these questions in such a way that it really gives them no information with which to work.  While I do get a chuckle out of the panicked look some booth associates get when they can’t figure out who their talking to or whether it’s worth spending time with me, I do truly appreciate the ones who seem to greet everyone in the same pleasant manner.  I give my business to them.

The convention coordinators are considering a variety of methods other than badge cards in the future.  Picture I.D.s, thumbprints, special code words, bar-code scans on our hands, micro-chipping, bio-metrics, retinal scans, and wireless router-ports imbedded directly into our frontal lobes have all been bandied about as potential usages in access identity management schemes.  Vote for your favorite today!