So… let’s keep this one just between us. I would be happy to never plan another menu. If I make it to retirement without ever decorating another ballroom, I will retire happy. Planner sacrilege? I don’t think so… I prefer to think of it as honesty. These are the parts of my job that I can do, have done, but don’t necessarily enjoy and, quite frankly, don’t think speak to my strengths as a planner.

As a picky eater, I know what I like, but I have learned to eschew my tastes for the greater good of my attendees. I can plan a menu that makes almost everyone happy and satisfies vegetarians, lactose intolerants, meat lovers, and everyone in between, but is anyone going home raving about the menu? Maybe. Does their praise belong to me? Definitely not.

I have enormous respect and admiration for people who can plan a mouthwatering, memorable meal - one that, from start to finish, transports the diner to a parallel universe where the courses form a journey to gastronomical paradise. I love the ride, but I’m not the conductor. 

I like to present my meeting demographics, along with my budget, to my hotel contact and let him or her run with it and design a memorable menu. Sometimes, I get a pre-printed, uninspired banquet menu in return, and I am forced to get involved and put a menu together. More often than not, however, I get something special. The hotel catering staff knows the hotel chef and his or her strengths and weaknesses. They also oversee back-to-back breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and receptions, and they know what sells and what doesn’t. I console myself with the thought that I am not being a slacker; the team at the hotel appreciates the opportunity, and my attendees will reap the rewards. 

I will also often use menu planning as a training tool for rookie planners. They can pore over menus and make choices, and I can critique and teach the basics of planning for the palates of a diverse group of consumers. Food and beverage is also a great ice breaker with clients. Many times, meeting owners will come to the planner with little idea of how to plan a meeting, but they know what they like to eat. The ownership of the menu, revised with some planner input on pleasing a crowd, goes a long way toward client satisfaction and continuing a good business relationship. I also turn to meeting planning colleagues for suggestions. We all have our individual strengths, and I keep a database of planners who believe a meeting or event lives or dies by the menu. They never steer me wrong.

My relationship with décor is similar to the one I enjoy with menu planning. Again, I know what I like, but not every ballroom benefits from a tropical beach theme. In picking décor, I have tended toward playing it safe. Floor-length black linens paired with white overlays and votives on mirrors work, but they are not going to win any awards. I will unapologetically send back wrinkled linens or stained chairs on a pre-meeting room check, but I can’t easily recommend colors and fabrics. In my entire career, I have never ordered chair covers, but I respect their place and function in a formal event.

How have I gotten by all these years without a penchant for these parts of the job? Good question. Experts, foodies, interior designers disguised as meeting planners: these are the people I turn to in times of need. Do I thank them profusely for their input? Absolutely! Do I take credit for their inspiration?Always!

Has my laissez-faire attitude backfired on me? It has and, most memorably, at the Alamo. I planned a dinner for a group of physicians utilizing a beautiful rooftop space overlooking the scene of this historic battle in San Antonio. The view should have been a sufficient “wow,” but I gave the local DMC free rein on the décor. With far too many other things on my plate, I signed off on some questionable décor.

During set-up, I wisely nixed the extraneous miniature suits of armor that the decorator happened to have on the truck and was certain we would love. I accepted the floor-length ruby red tablecloths and black napkins – after all, it’s what my signature on the contract ordered. Sadly, I ignored the obvious hazard posed by the four-foot-high floral centerpieces accented by six dangling votives until a wind gust below one over, and we had to detain our guests inside while shards of broken glass were cleared away. Dinner went on as scheduled with florals and stationary votives on the tables. What, you may ask, did the attendees remember about the evening? The Alamo, of course!

As a result, I now read all the fine print, express my opinion, but, most importantly, turn to my trusted experts whenever possible.

Trish Rafferty, CMP is the Senior Meeting Manager with Meetings in Medicine in NYC. She can be reached at trafferty@mimcompanies.com.

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