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By the time you read this, I’ll have landed in Sydney… for a careers conference I didn’t even sign myself up for. My manager had a knee reconstruction and couldn’t go — so here I am, the lucky recipient of her ticket, her lanyard, and her hotel booking. Truly, destiny chooses the chosen. And look — normally I’d be fine with this. I love a solo work trip. I’m a carry-on girl. I can pack for four days in less space than most people use for their “just in case” shoes. I glide through airports like a smug minimalist ninja. But this morning? Oh, Lisa was tested. First, I get seated next to Captain Elbow Expansion — the guy who believes both armrests and half of my tray table are spiritually his. I spent take-off pinned against the wall like a butterfly someone was trying to preserve. Then — and you cannot make this up — the man behind me taps my seat and says: “You can’t recline. I’m working.”
Mate. We’re all working. That’s why half the plane looks like a co-working space with anxiety. So yes, by the time we hit cruising altitude, I was already deeply committed to my “Do Not Disturb” era. Still — conferences like this do remind me why I do what I do. They’re chaotic, loud, full of buzzwords, people saying “AI” like it’s punctuation… but they always spark new ideas, conversations, and the occasional existential crisis about the future of work. Let’s be honest. Conferences are a strange beast. They’re sold to us as professional development — but let’s call it what it really is: four days of sitting, standing, speed-talking, clapping politely, and pretending you’re absorbing complex information on 5 hours’ sleep and 14 mini muffins. And if you’ve seen the program for this one — which you absolutely haven’t, because I would never subject you to that — it reads like someone asked ChatGPT to create 4 of the longest days imaginable. Yes, I read it. I’m traumatised. But here’s the thing… Conferences are draining because they’re one of the few times you’re ripped out of autopilot. You hear new voices. You see what other universities or industries are doing. You realise you’re not the only one thinking “surely there’s a better way to do this”. You get inspired. You get challenged. You get mildly dehydrated. But the real value is this: They give you perspective you didn’t know you needed. Every time I go to one, I walk away with:
Because yes, management didn’t just hand me a conference ticket and say, “Have fun.” They handed me a networking scavenger hunt. I’ve been tasked with:
So between the sessions, the jargon, the muffins, and the small talk, I’ll be quietly slipping into conversations like: “Oh wow, fascinating — and what tech stack are you using for that?”
And honestly? It works. This is where you find the nuggets you can’t Google and the contacts you can’t cold-email your way into. It’s exhausting. It’s intense. It’s everything everywhere all at once. But it’s also where the best professional magic happens — in the messy, human, slightly-overcaffeinated middle of it all. Even if getting there involves a battle for elbow space and someone policing my seat recline. ~Lisa |
