Fiction

What if there was no Goa Fest next year?

An annual conference on the sunny beaches of Goa was the holiday we all waited for. A refresher course as we would call it. Two days of international speakers culminating into the most happening advertising awards show in the country.  Since our agency hardy entered any creatives for the awards it was more for the break and the international speakers that we went.

The speakers were a league apart. Stuff we thought needs to be done they had already executed it and were talking about the benefits of the same. The need for full service agency rather than specialised ones. The need for agencies to stop working in silos and the need to collaborate to provide better value to clients. Digital, customer targeting, value generation and more. Inspiring award winning work and campaigns. And just imagine if all this came to an end.

Next summer we were told that budgets were tight and the conference is being canned. No more speakers, a small awards show will be held in Mumbai. Really were they serious?

This couldn’t be happening we thought. It was all this very, very bad dream and had to come to an end. We instantly went online and googled about the same. The entire advertising community was in an uproar. So much so they suggested that they would pay a little extra, didn’t want fancy stuff but the evil sponsors just didn’t want to relent. They thought of the event as a drunken party at their expense which they were better without. We clearly were not.

That night we went back home to think of ideas to counter this ‘client’. Each member of the fraternity had to think of five workable solutions to make this event happen.

In the following days, we held online petitions against these so called sponsors. Worked up a fund to invite some speakers on our own. And were finally ready to arrange for the biggest crowdsourced event in advertising history.

The flight was kind of jerky. The seat belts sign were on but we were just too excited about that we finally made it. As I was returning to my seat, the craft passed through a bad patch and I hid my head against a near by seat and passed out.

When I came to my senses, I found myself lying down on the floor with a severe headache. I think I hit my head against the bed post.

Oh crap! That means all that was a dream! We still have no funds, the event is really not happening? I checked the phone to see what day it was and the time. Just about 7.30 AM. *uggghhh*. With that crappy feeling, I got out of bed slowly to grudgingly go to work again…

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