No, really. I’m sorry, Fan Expo, but I’ve given this a lot of thought.
I can’t handle the incompetent line management anymore. Or the inconsistent room management, or the constantly changing procedures, or the total lack of traffic flow planning or understanding. I feel like you’ve studied at the Ikea school of customer flow—one way in and one way out—but dropped out after the first day before you learned why and how it actually is made to work.
And the escalators… ai-ya.
Oh, and some consistent communication to your staff and security crew would be good, so they can deliver a consistent message when people have questions. Or even just deliver a message.
And this year, you were trying to be too much to too many people, crowding more of us into a larger space but without much understanding of how that would work. Sports was a great idea… for a separate con. You wouldn’t get me, but then you didn’t anyway. You just gave most of us an extra obstacle to get through to get to the real convention.
And even with the expansion, the aisles on the con floor were still ridiculously narrow for the number of people you had in the building.
Wait, I guess it is you. Really, considering everything, it has to be you. Sorry.
So I think we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I’m hate that it’s come to this, but the stress is starting to outweigh the fun, and that’s not good for either of us. We need some time apart, some time to grow. I’ve got a date in Ottawa in the spring, and I think it’s going to be a good one. It’s okay, there are plenty of other people for you.
Yes, I guess I’m fooling myself. We both know I’ll take you back next year.
You’ll promise some hefty star power, the people I want to see in person for Q&A sessions, autographs, and maybe even photos. There will be panels and artists and cosplay and awesome stuff to buy and all the cool things I want in a con.
But I’ll resist. I’ll be strong. There’s no doubt in my mind. You and I are over.
Until my kids remind me how much they love you.by