Multi-drug-resistant media stalking
I'm at ICAAC in DC this weekend. ICAAC is the biggest infectious disease meeting. The last C stands for chemotherapy, but I'm not sure why.
You may wonder what I do at medical meetings. I'm supposed to take advantage of the onsite presence of ID media and ID experts to pitch stories and arrange interviews. In effect, this means trolling the DC Convention Center, stalking reporters. Through an inconvenient twist of fate, the organizers made the name tag type really small. So I've given up on my usual approach of roaming around the poster session, trying to spot recognizable names, and instead I just lurk outside the press conference room.
This is not exactly a well-respected activity. The words "stalk" and "lurk" probably clued you in to that. And when I say lurk, I mean practically blocking the door so I can squint at as many name tags as possible, smiling in a proprietary way since that seems slightly less foolish than not smiling. I've got no right to look proprietary, especially since the actual proprietor of these press conferences is always nearby. Shockingly, he puts up with this. Usually that person's job is to shoo me and my ilk away, and he in particular is well known for that. I guess the holiday spirit and associated low media attendance at this meeting have made him pretty easygoing.
As you might guess, I am not the only flack engaged in this pastime. My brethren are easy to spot. They all look like me: blonde, besuited, and bearing enormous bags of paper. And between the ages of 25 and 35. 80 or 90 percent female. Plus they all hang back so as not to take up the best seats of the press conference. And they (we) all have that look of saleswomen in a department store, carefully gauging where to strike next.
Meanwhile, our quarry is also easy to identify. Hair is unstyled and freely graying. Lots of turtlenecks, sweaters and bulky outerwear. Basically, the Michael Moore school of fashion and grooming. These are all print and radio reporters, of course. Most move quickly down the hall -- the media ghetto is always a dark, out-of-the-way hall with no seating -- and avoid eye contact. Some go so far as to avoid leaving the media lounge, where we're not welcome, without a cell phone attached to their face.
I actually don't mind all of this as much as you'd think. Most of the people I want to pounce on, actually don't mind hearing from me. I just wish they'd make the nametag type bigger, so I could pounce more accurately and with less awkward squinting.
Also, I'm not convinced this is worth all the planning and all the expenses I'm incurring for my client. But apparently this is the way everyone does it, everyone being the big drug companies. I finally started chatting up the other hallway flacks, out of boredom. Between the 4 or 5 of us, we managed to generate enough gossip to fill up the daily report to our clients. Competing clients, but what's the difference when most of the media are avoiding us anyway?
