Stand and deliver

If you hate crowds then this is the most depressing sight in the world ...

... Olympia, full of stalls. There's another, larger hall next to it, two levels each, both packed full of strangers, thousands of 'em, wandering around and trying not to catch your eye in case you want to talk to them but yet (in a paradoxical way) possibly seeking exactly the knowledge or services that you have to offer. And there's the freebies, of course. I got the Boy a pen and, in honour of his GCSEs, a Bitesize badge from the BBC stand. How his little face lit up at one and his eyes narrowed at the other.

I've had good cause to get to know Olympia at exhibition time, primarily from the days when I worked for the organisers of Online Information. On one occasion, after everyone had gone home, we were walking down these stairs ...


... and found a discarded paper napkin that, from the shape of its fold, had obviously been pressed into service as an emergency sanitary towel. We left it to the cleaners.

So, eight years after I was last on a stand, there I was again, today, at BETT. Look very closely and you can see me, second from right, photographing myself on the videoconferencing screen. When you're manning a stand you make your own entertainment.


I'm actually pretty pleased with myself. I stood for most of seven hours but I talked to complete strangers and even got sensible answers out of them. It's quite easy. Someone hovers nearby for whatever reason. Approach them with a friendly smile, ask if they're familiar with the product. Usually they say "yes, but ..." And you're in.

Manning a stand can have its advantages. I plotted the second half of The Xenocide Mission while on the company stand at the Frankfurt Book Fair, 1998. This had the advantage of looking a lot like actual work, and people who came up to me with queries actually apologised for interrupting. Well, quite, art was happening. I was on my own with a fridge full of beer. People from the nearby Scholastic stand kept popping over for a bottle.

At our stand at the European Association of Urology's 1999 meeting in Stockholm, I got to introduce Dr X, who was editing a book on one urological disorder, to Professor Y who was editing a book on another. "Dr X, prostatitis; Professor Y, erectile dysfunction."

No such fun this time, though the neighbouring Oracle stand occasionally staged a little song and dance routine, nicely timed to coincide with our videoconferences until we asked them not to. They were very apologetic.


And I don't know who these people are but I'm guessing they charge their customers too much.