Non Sense

So I'm in San Francisco this week for Dreamforce.

What is Dreamforce, you are likely asking...because if you knew what it was you'd be here with me and we'd be in a bar laughing about our hangovers and how jacked up our hair is from the humidity and how I'm staying in a hotel for Marines instead of at the Marriott because I registered too late. And about how stupid my idea for being a one-woman USO was, because all of the Marines at this hotel are octogenarians on vacation with their wives and it's not even remotely like that bar scene in Top Gun. And yes, I know that wasn't about Marines, but you get my drift.

But you're not here, you jerks, so now I have to blog about being here to entertain myself. Sitting at a bar alone and hungover with jacked up hair simply is not on my agenda today. Sitting alone in my hotel room, obsessively changing shirts apparently is.  Sleeveless and clingy or cleavage? Sleeveless and clingy or cleavage??

Okay, existential wardrobe crisis aside, this conference is awesome.

Dreamforce is the Cloud-Computing event of the year, with approximately 35,000 attendees, each more eager to learn about all manner of topics than the next. It features speakers like Eric Schmidt, Executive Chairman of Google, Tim Campos, CIO of Facebook, and in a random and surprising turn of events, yours truly.

What the hell do I know about Cloud Computing, you may be asking (you are very curious today)-- especially if you know anything at all about my non-meteoric non-rise through the world of telecom for the past 20 years. I've built an entire non-empire based on the premise that you can work in this industry for two decades without ever actually learning about the technology.  My non-product-knowledge is almost visionary now that the entire world is selling "solutions" and not products, and I'm grateful I never cluttered my pretty little head with facts about now-obsolete technologies. It really freed up a lot of space for BeeGees lyrics.

So tomorrow, I speak.  Not in front of all 35,000 attendees mind you, but rather in front of the 325 who were prescient enough to pre-register for my now completely full session on "Building High Return Marketing Campaigns by Leveraging Targeted Data."  If that title alone doesn't have you moist with anticipation, then I just don't even know who you are anymore. And you know what? Maybe I never did.

I'm nervous.

I mean, yes I'm a Marketing Genius-- we all know that. But I'm not an expert, I'm a goofball.  Presenting in front of your peers is nerve-wracking and despite my minor in Speech Communications (to go with that oh-so-practical Radio/TV major), I've got the jitters.

I've also got jacked up hair, the blister that ate Chicago on my right heel, and a giant zit on my nose. And I'm absolutely shallow enough to have these things affect my confidence.

As it turns out, I also have you.  And a number of you have reached out to tell me how amazing my speech is going to be and I'm now forever in your debt. So you're kind of like Capital One to me, but with a lower interest rate and no Vikings.

So thank you.

To my horror, I think they are filming my session. So as long as my zit doesn't show, my hair doesn't look like an Afro, and I remember to hold my stomach in, I may post the link at some point.  I know the subject matter is riveting and you don't want to miss out on what is sure to be a YouTube phenom.  What can I say, people? I'm a giver.

For now, I'm going to go change my shirt again. And maybe practice my speech. And I'm thinking there may be some wine consumed later.

I sure do wish you were here.  Maverick needs a wingman.