Greetings loyal readers,
I just got back from another trade show, this time in Dallas. The experience was pretty much the same as last time, except that, unfortunately, I’ve come back a little under the weather.
I’m not sure exactly what kind of ailment I’ve contracted, but I suppose it’s best described as the “Generic Head Cold of Doom.” You know, stuffed-up nose, congestion headache, hearing that’s all muffled—the whole by-numbers deal. And before you ask, no, I don’t know where the “Doom” comes from. I’m not the one who names these things, after all. If you’re curious, I suppose you could check something like Hyperbole and Naming Colds: An Introductory Primer. You might find an answer there.
Like most other colds, or maybe all colds on Earth, I don’t have anything to blame except my own pride and neglect of promotional products. That sounds like a cheeky statement, but I’m only half-kidding. Read on and see.
During the course of my prior trip to Vegas, several of my coworkers bemoaned the fact that they were likely to get sick after the show. I listened, but did not take heed. There is some kind of vestigial caveman part of my brain that compels me to believe that:
A) I’m too strong to get sick. (Apparently my strict meathead upbringing overrides the fact that I haven’t been able to bench press more than a wet towel for years.)
B) Oprah and Jon Stossel have basically created mass germophobia from the ground up using sensational and overly sappy journalism. Other lovely perks of their work would be Dr. Phil’s career or Jon Stossel’s mustache.
By ignoring the TV’s favorite talking heads, after Vegas, my inner caveman grew stronger. We did not get sick. We thought about how tough we were, and maybe where we could get some rad furs or paintings for our cave walls. Something with Elks. We love Elks.
Redecoration would have to wait, however, because like a coming ice age or big, flaming meteor, the Dallas convention drove a wedge between myself and my club-wielding pal. In Dallas, just like in Vegas, I’m shaking hands and talking with a few dozen people a day. No big deal though, my inner caveman and I figure. After all, I wash my hands plenty of times during the day, and I didn’t get sick at the larger Vegas show, so why would I get sick here?
The answer, of course, is that I’m shaking hands with dozens of people a day, and the probability of surviving that, germ-free, during cold season, is pretty slim.
Adding idiocy, beyond my normal hubris anyhow, is that during the show I was in the brainstorming phases of a hotel and travel feature for our March issue. So, I’m wandering around the show floor, trying to think of interesting products and interviewees for the topic, and among other things, my mind keeps coming back to hand sanitizers.
Though I refused to acknowledge the fact I might get sick during the convention, I was fully able to understand that hand cleanser was a great idea for other people. I figured that others might like the ability to protect themselves from the zillions of germs circulating the trade-show floor.
This is why there are no more cavemen.
Just so we’re all up to speed, I want to reiterate that I was thinking about how good portable hand sanitizer would be at business conventions, while I was at a business convention that I got sick at, largely because I didn’t use portable hand sanitizer. Not even mentioning that I could have closed my eyes, reached into any random giveaway fishbowl, and probably could have come up with some free hand cleaner.
My circuitous, Aesop-y morale is as follows: Just because you may have a bias towards a product, like my macho aversion to hand sanitizer, that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Keeping an open mind and trying to make objective observations is probably a much better strategy than just making up opinions that sound good. Example:
Stupid, unfounded opinion: Hand sanitizer is for neurotic wimps.
Versus
Logical observation: A lot of companies are giving out hand sanitizer. This must mean it’s a competitive area. If it’s competitive, that means money is being made. If money is being made, that means that people probably like the product. People like products that work.
Until next week,
Mike
*Charles Plyter Fact of the Week: Back in his youth, Charles used to help write TV sitcoms. He quit because because he felt a calling for non-profit work. This may lead some to speculate that Charlie has a heart of gold, to which I can only shrug and remind everyone that there can be evil non-profits as well. Sure, Charlie may have been feeding the poor or saving the environment, but he also could have joined up with The Association of Grandma Shovers or Secret Car-Keyers of America. I would ask him where he worked, but I’m sure he would say something like, “Don’t you have work to do,” or “Why are you even talking to me?” You know, typical Grandma-shover stuff.
