For the last five years, I’ve been coveting a slot to attend the Career College Association’s annual convention. And while it doesn’t exactly sound particularly riveting, it is my company’s single biggest meet-and-greet event. Who better to work a room than yours truly?
Over the weekend, the CCA convention was in full swing. I’ve been glad-handing, schmoozing and kissing babies for twelve hours a day. And I’ve also been eating my way through this convention. Dear God! Do people like to eat around here or what? There were four different vendors with four different verities of cookies within spitting distance of my booth. I should know — I’ve sampled all of them.

The place was a vast sea of salespeople, vendors and services. Some pushier than others. For instance, it is not, repeat, NOT necessary to offer me a chocolate pudding pop every time I walk by your booth. Why? Because even though I may not necessarily listen to your schpeel about student retention — I’ll sure take whatever chocolate by-product you’re hocking.
It appears people are more apt to listen to you if you give them sugar. Believe me, if I’m hopped up on sugar, I cannot hold my attention span more than six seconds. Better tell me everything you have to say in less than five seconds — just to be safe.
I broke out my fat pants for this trip. Good thing! On Monday, it wasn’t even 1pm and I had already consumed well over 3,000 calories — uh, with lunch, an ice cream social and a charity dinner to go. The only reason I didn’t put out an eye with a wayward button is because I had the forethought to bring my fat pants.
The gala was a hodge-podge and mish-mash of our sector’s movers and shakers. I didn’t know any of them. But didn’t I look good in my tuxedo? Thankfully, the tuxedo has a sliding waist line which can fluctuate between a 33 waist and a 38 waist. After two weeks of being on the road and eating to my heart’s content – the waistline was nearing a gut-busting 38.
God help us all.
And God help my fat pants. Good thing it was for charity.