26 May 2010
 
Booth Babes


 
It was Day Two of the big defense Information Technology show, and people were getting a little glassy in the booths on the display floor. There were 250 booths, big and small, though mostly the latter, and everyone had, by now, seen most of the give-aways and given the elevator speeches a few hundred times.
 
It was not as loopy as Day three, when the ten hours per session on your feet and the mild hang-over makes folks really existential. But it was getting there.
 
In the late afternoon, and the symposia were happening, with break-out sessions in the East Hall and light floor traffic on the display floor.
 
Most of the freebies at the convention are intended to attract your attention long enough to get and elevator speech from the Booth Babe, and a scan of your conference badge so they can send you spam e-mail for the rest of the year. I was doing my part. My badge permitted me access to the professional presentations, but we had an obligation to ensure the company booth was manned at all times to answer questions and network with our competitors.
 
In between, I wandered around to collect loot.
 
I got a couple metal water bottles and some assorted novelties, but there was no clear winner for “must have” freebie of the show, like the metal magnetic chess sets last year or the fiberglass walking sticks two years ago from the antenna manufacturer that caused such a problem at the airport two years ago when everyone showed up at security with ominous-looking black canes and TSA thought they were under attack.
 
Transportation security is no laughing matter these days, so I don’t blame them for freaking out.
 
The rockets are fabulous, and don’t appear that threatening. They are a simple Nerf foam tube with a powerful rubber band at the front end and three soft fins. They can fly a remarkable distance. The EMC booth is just over the curtain from ours, and periodically a blue and white missile would arc over the top and land harmlessly in the aisle.
 
Or sometimes it would hit a passer-by.
 
“Incoming!” I yelled when I saw one appear, heading for apogee above the company logo suspended from the ceiling, but a fellow in a tweed jacket took a head shot when it came down and seemed a little disoriented though unhurt.
 
You don’t know what startles people this days, or where they have been to get the and he picked up the rocket and put it in a trash can. One of the guys at the Acceleron booth picked it out, and I guess he thought he would just pop it back at the originators in the new aisle, but apparently he did not know the capabilities of the design.
 
He snapped that rubber band way back and the rocket took off, maybe fifty yards in flight toward the coffee station sponsored by Northrop-Grumman.
 
I braced myself for shock. An unprovoked attack last year had prompted a hail of missiles across the convention center with everyone who had visited the booth jumping on the bandwagon of retaliatory strikes. The air was filled with rockets, which threatened to undermine the dignity of the industry display floor sponsored by Lockheed-Martin.
 
It appeared that no one got hit out there, and no response was noted. Karen wandered back from a reconnaissance sortie and I mentioned that there had been no attacks since she left.
 
“You should see what else those guys did she,” she said.
 
That late on Day Two of the conference I was getting a little shell-shocked and my grin was glazed. “What could you do that is better than Nerf Rockets?” I asked.
 
She shook her head with disapproval. “You know they call us Booth Babes?”
 
“I am well aware of why we dress like we do,” I said primly. “Professional. If the employees who represent the companies seem disproportionately young and female, I suppose that is just a coincidence. This is serious business, not like some car show with people in bathing suits.”
 
“Well," she said. "EMC actually got one.”
 
“One what?” I asked.
 
“They hired a Hooters Gal to man their booth for the afternoon.”
 
“This I have to see,” I said, standing up suddenly.
 
“Too late. The convention management shut them down.”
 
“Damn!” I said in wonder. “I wish I had known. Was she in Hooters uniform?”
 
“No, she had on the EMC logo shirt and wasn’t showing too much cleavage but she had the shortest short shorts I have ever seen. It was like she was in her underwear.”
 
“Underwear and rockets,” I said. “What a combination!”
 
“Not professional,” said Karen firmly. “None of the rest of us can do that, and it is just not right.”
 
I totally agreed, sort of, wishing I had seen the real Booth Babe.
 
EMC apparently wasn’t that chastened by their reprimand. There was a rocket attack directed at SAIC that mostly flew over around four, and by four-thirty I was ready to head over to the reception at the Hyatt.
 
The best cocktail reception for a new-start defense contractor. The second floor of the Hyatt was buzzing with life. SRA, BAE had thrown out the red carpet, and this new outfit was actually pouring real liquor to make up for their lack of a booth.
 
People exuded a lot of enthusiasm. The cocktail lounge on the first floor was jammed with people who had no invitations to the private events, and Game Four of the NBA West Championship was happening at the US Air Center a couple blocs away, so there was real crackling  energy on the street.
 
The company that was providing the free drinks for us did not have a booth at the convention, but decided to go all-out with food and drink to announce their presence in the market place.
 
I noted their enthusiasm and was gratified by the free drinks. It had been a momentous afternoon, and I was pleased to have survived the rocket attacks, though sad to have missed meeting the only Booth Babe who actually had any professional integrity.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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