Speakeasy

O’Hare International Airport, Chicago

I’m still not quite sure how this happened. How did I end up on a stage, in front of a packed conference of top-level newspaper executives, sitting next to the CEO of a massive newspaper for which I slaved thanklessly just seven years ago? By all rights, I shouldn’t even have been in the audience, but there I was, with a nametag, and a little green ribbon that said “Speaker.”

OK, I mean, I guess I know how it happened. It’s not like I got drugged in a Mexican brothel and woke up at a podium in Chicago.

A few months back, our publisher asked if I would fill his spot at the Newspaper Association of America’s Readership Conference. They wanted us to talk about how we’ve increased circulation, which I assumed was a rare success. Turns out, it’s borderline unheard-of, and newspaper executives are desperate to learn that some paper somewhere is not bleeding to death.

People were grilling me for info before I even got to make my presentation. It felt like a high school lunch table, where I’m the only one who’s actually seen a girl naked. My explanations just didn’t seem to satisfy.

Anyway, my time finally comes, and I take the stage next to the CEO of the Arizona Republic, where I interned at age 20. (A quick tangent. What was that job like, you ask? Well, if you ever want to know what it feels like to be a coffee bean in the hands of Starbucks, go snag an internship in Phoenix. You might produce a nice product, but it's a shame you have to be charred, ground up and urinated back into suburbia. The hiking was nice, though.)

So the last thing I really remember is my name being called, and a polite applause, and approaching the podium. Then I was floating outside my body, watching my lips move but hearing nothing. I saw the crowd. Some guy was yawning. A really crappy PowerPoint presentation fluttered on a large screen, and the color theme seemed like an homage to Albuquerque.

Then it was over, my body’s defense mechanism relaxed, and I was pulled back into my own skull. It was time for questions. Someone asked if I knew our paper’s market penetration. I said, “No.” Right then, the moderator announced the session was over. Strong finish, Griner. I’m such an ass. How could I not know our market penetration? They were onto me. They knew I didn’t really know what the hell I’m talking about.

But I was wrong. A few people came up to tell me they liked my presentation. Then there were a few more. Then a woman offered me a job. Seriously. Wait, what just happened? Even more people came up to me in the back of the room, in the hallway, in the lobby. It was like winning some kind of credibility lottery.

So the moral is, it went pretty well. Shame I didn’t bring any business cards. Such an ass.
More to come, with actual information about the cool parts of the conference, and not just self-deprecating reminiscences.