The Case of the Bad Event
My friend, Tessa, moved back to her hometown after a long time away. She also went to college in that city. In anticipation of my visit, she bought tickets for us to attend a basketball game at her alma mater that included an alum event as part of the game. The event, to be held in the school’s athletic center VIP suite, with food and drink, was advertised to alums to show up to support the team against the crosstown rival. Tessa hoped she would meet other alums about our age for networking and connection as she re-established herself in that city.
She was excited about the event and unearthed her sorority pin to wear to the game. “Yea, I was that girl,” she joked, “the one that bought the pin encrusted with sapphires to show ultimate dedication!”
We reread the email advising us that the reception started at 6:30 and that we would find parking across the street from the athletic center. The college has an urban campus; Tessa had not stepped foot on it in decades. Millions of dollars and years of expansion and renovation meant the campus was nearly unrecognizable. We approached the athletic center. Using GPS, we saw no parking lot or deck across from the athletic center. We inexpertly navigated the one-way streets. Several were new since she was there last. With no parking deck in sight, we asked Siri to help. With his crisp British accent, the GPS voice directed us in circles, finally telling us we had arrived in a dimly lit underpass at least a half mile from campus.
Taking matters into our own hands, we located a surface parking lot two blocks from the athletic center. It was 6:45. We hurried to the center and followed students through the doors where Tessa remembered the entrance. The sweet and earnest student at the desk told us that the game was at the opposite end of the athletic center and directed us to go back outside, take a left on Werther Walk (something that did not exist when Tessa went to school there) and continue another block to the gym entrance.
After clearing security and more confusion about whether we should have a wristband for the event (we did not), we were in the gym lobby with no idea how to get to the suite. We saw no signage and no one from the alumni office, so we asked an usher, who directed us to go down a long hallway and up two flights of stairs.
At 7:05, five minutes after tip-off, we were out of breath and at a check-in table. Someone, a man who did not introduce himself, asked us our names and checked them off on a clipboard. He told us to find our name tags as he walked away. Tags affixed, we walked into the suite, which was not a suite at all but more of a long balcony that overlooked the court with barstools lining the length of it. Every barstool was taken, and people were standing behind those in seats. Along the wall was the promised buffet, but every pan was empty, scraped clean by ravenous alums who managed to get there on time.
We bought glasses of wine since our ticket did not include a drink. We stood near the picked-over buffet table as there was no other place to be. Holding our coats, we sipped the wine, watched the backs of fellow alums who all faced the game, and wondered, was this the whole event? No one approached us, offered us a seat, or seemed to care that we were there. No one appeared to be in charge, we didn’t recognize anyone, and everyone seemed very involved in the game, the one we could not see. How would Tessa meet anyone?
At 7:30, we left.
There are so many missed opportunities in school event planning. Clients often tell me about the volume of events their office plans, whether through the development office, the alumni relations office, or the admissions office. As with this case study, let’s imagine the event is not a specific fundraiser but rather one of “friend raising,” cultivation, or stewardship. In those cases, often the focus is on the venue, the food, the décor, and the program, but little attention to the experience guests have. I am amazed how many events have no other goal but to get people on campus or to the venue. If that’s the only goal, it’s not worth your time or that of your guests.
Here are eight questions to ask yourself before sending the invitations to your next event:
What is the goal of this event?
What experience do you want your guests to have?
How will you craft that experience, taking into consideration the various lenses your school is seen through?
Do you have enough staff and volunteers to execute on the experience?
What are your guests hoping to get from coming to your event (it might not be what you think)?
Why will your event be better than whatever else they could do on a Wednesday night?
How will you follow up with guests after the event so they know they were seen, valued, and appreciated by the school?
Is the call to action clear? How will you articulate that?
I still enthusiastically recommend Priya Parker’s 2018 book, The Art of Gathering. Her insights changed the way I think about events, the way I advise clients, and the way I host gatherings. Events can have the power to move your school or initiative forward in memorable and even spectacular ways, or they can cause you and your team to spin your wheels, wasting time and energy when you could be connecting with people in much more meaningful ways.
Let’s evaluate your work plan together and consider the most effective ways to move your program forward.
The author, Jill Goodman, is a consultant working with independent school leaders to advance their school’s mission, enhance their processes, and bolster their skills. Learn more about all services here.
