Fighting Foo at Century II…

A recent trend in blogs is the trade show garb, well this post is no different. I am at the expansive Century II in downtown Wichita. I have been packed to the gills with activities and events to attend. That provides me the opportunity to fight some foo.

Foo is another name for trouble and I had plenty of it prior to the show.

When I arrived at the show location I started to unload my loot. I hauled the television in, followed by boxes of literature and then began the task of making a slab of concrete look presentable. This is no easy task. I decided to go ahead and locate the electricity, because that would dictate where things could be placed. That was my first pile of foo.

No juice.

I went on a trek that felt like I was tracking deer through a thicket. One person sent me here, then they would send me there, and so on. It was crazy – so I decided to forgo the trek and set out to find my own maintenance man. When I finally found one that was non union he came over to the booth and stared at the floor.

“If you don’t have a cord, you weren’t supposed to have electricity,” he told me.

“We paid for it,” I answered. “I have the paperwork.”

“Can I see it?” He asked. I showed him the proof that we did indeed pay for the electricity – over a month ago. “Obviously the ball was dropped. You have a paid sticker.”

Foo fought. Foo defeated.

The second pile of foo was the neighbors. Usually at trade shows neighbors are friendly. I, however, have the GOBN next door. (That’s the Good Old Boys Network sweetheart). They do what they want, when they want and damn everyone else. I was one of the damned this morning. When I arrived my booth was completely covered by a monstrosity of a couch. I had ten minutes to change the layout and that’s when I realized the electricity, which I had worked so hard to obtain, had been knocked and my booth was dead.

I kept my cool. I’m flexible, I can adapt – so that’s what I did. I didn’t even rip the guys head off when he asked, “are we crowding you?” I simply smiled and said no. I picked my battles because I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the butthole.

Foo disarmed.

This was all before ten. The final foo came with the blaring of the BeeGee’s hit, ‘Stayin Alive’. Really? It wasn’t just marginally loud, we’re talking so loud equipment vibrated. When I got the bleeding stopped from my poor eardrums the show started and the folks started to filter in and I was even engaged in intelligent conversation.

Foo neutralized.