My Leadership Philosophy: Orchestra Conductor, Not Drill Sergeant
Think of me as the conductor of a very colorful orchestra. Everyone brings their unique instrument (aka their perspective), and my job is to help them create beautiful music together…not force them all to play the same boring note in perfect, soul-crushing unison.
Some days I’m conducting a symphony of chaos where the volunteers show up in flip-flops, the keynote speaker’s flight gets delayed, and somehow we still pull off an event that makes people genuinely happy. Other days, everything goes according to plan and I get suspicious because that’s not how this industry usually works.
The Numbers Don’t Lie (And Neither Do the Smiles)
Here’s what the bean counters care about: The ROI of inclusive events isn’t just warm-and-fuzzy metrics (though those absolutely matter too). It’s increased attendance, higher engagement scores, and participants who actually want to come back next year instead of ghosting your email list.
When people feel seen, heard, and accommodated, they don’t just attend your events…they become your biggest advocates. They bring friends. They post genuine (not sponsored) content on social media. They remember your event fondly instead of as “that thing I had to sit through.”
The Real Tea: We’re All Stealing Ideas
To my fellow event planners drowning in vendor emails and timeline spreadsheets: What’s one inclusive practice that completely changed how you approach events? I’m always stealing… I mean, borrowing good ideas from brilliant people.
Because let’s face it – in this industry, we’re all just trying to create experiences that don’t suck while keeping our sanity intact. If sharing strategies helps us all level up, I’m here for it.
The Bottom Line (Besides My Dwindling Bank Account)
Inclusive event planning isn’t about checking boxes or virtue signaling. It’s about recognizing that your attendees are gloriously complicated humans with different needs, backgrounds, and preferences and planning accordingly.
It’s about understanding that the mom who needs a lactation room, the executive who uses a wheelchair, the attendee observing religious dietary restrictions, and the networking newbie having an anxiety attack in the corner all deserve to have an amazing experience at your event.
Because at the end of the day, we’re not just planning meetings. We’re creating spaces where people connect, learn, grow, and maybe – just maybe – leave feeling a little more hopeful about the world.
Now excuse me while I go respond to seventeen vendor emails and figure out why the AV team thinks they need a crane for a simple presentation setup.
What’s your biggest #meetingplannerproblems moment that taught you something valuable about inclusion? Share your war stories in the comments – misery loves company, and we’ve all been there.