Jim Fausel couldn't breathe. It was December of 1999, and the 57-year-old president of meeting management firm The Conference Connection had been experiencing shortness of breath on and off for weeks. At first he'd blamed it on wintertime "bad air" in his hometown of Scottsdale, AZ, but his shallow breathing grew so acute he was forced into the hospital on New Year's Eve, new millennium be damned. "The doctors had found some blockage in an artery," he remembers. "They thought they'd fix it with a stent" -- a wire mesh tube used to prop open blood vessels -- "and I'd be out in a couple of hours."
Nine hours later, Fausel woke up in the intensive care unit in excruciating pain, his chest and mouth filled with so many tubes "my wife said I looked like something from a sci-fi movie." The blockage the doctors detected had turned out to require an eight-way bypass operation -- a record for the hospital. "I was signing autographs for the nurses!" he laughs.
Fausel may chuckle about it now, but his brush with death, and the weeks he spent recuperating, forced him to face himself in a way he never had before. As he lay in bed, his chest literally held in place by eight stainless-steel rods, "I had to rethink how I lived," he says. "I realized that how I worked, the stresses I created for myself, were a large part of how I'd gotten where I was."
While few planners put so much pressure on themselves that they land in the ICU, Fausel's style of workaholic perfectionism is rife in the hospitality world. But more importantly, what -- short of chomping on chocolates, going on booze binges, or changing careers altogether -- can planners do about it? And with attendees increasingly bringing their own stressful lives into the meeting room, how can planners help defuse the tension? Successful Meetings spoke to corporate, association, and independent planners across the country as well as hospitality industry leaders and experts on stress in the workplace. Read on for some stories we're sure you can relate to and some we sure hope you can't, as well as strategies for coping with what the American Institute of Stress, a research organization in Yonkers, NY, calls "America's number-one health problem."
Sweating the Small Stuff . . . and the Not-So-Small Stuff
If anecdotes aren't enough to convince you that on-the-job stress is a serious, and worsening, problem, consider this: In a Harris poll taken in the spring of 2001, half of U.S. workers reported that their workloads had increased over the previous year, and more than half said they were "somewhat" to "extremely" stressed on the job. Factor in that the survey was taken before Osama, Enron, and the tanking economy took their toll, and the American workplace starts to resemble a nail-biting, ulcer-inducing nightmare.
While there are no comprehensive studies specific to the hospitality sector, stress levels are probably even higher than for the general public. Today's planners have not only the same headaches they always did (prima donna speakers, food and beverage faux-pas), but a host of new ones they could never have predicted: Will my meeting be attacked by bioterrorists? Will my CEO appear on the front page of tomorrow's paper wearing handcuffs? No wonder Ed Griffin, president and CEO of Dallas-based Meeting Professionals International, refers jokingly (we hope) to "the volume of Valium" planners are popping to cope with tension at work.
More seriously, Griffin points out that even subtracting the less rational worries, pressure on planners is at an all-time high for three simple reasons: smaller staffs thanks to layoffs, ever-shorter lead times, and greater financial restrictions. No surprises there: SM's own biennial State of the Industry report, published in January, showed that the number of full-time meeting planners in organizations had declined by nearly half, with more short-term meetings being planned across the board and 32 percent more respondents required to quantify return on investment. As Alison Becker, senior manager for a Baltimore-based communications company she did not want named, put it: "In my fifteen-plus years planning meetings, the last two years have definitely been the most stressful."
Not Waving, But Drowning
Part of the problem with tackling the topic of stress is that it's taboo; people don't want to talk about it. Indeed, several planners contacted for this article admitted feeling overwhelmed at work but refused to divulge further. Others spoke candidly but did not want their names used. Explained one, "As an independent planner, I'm afraid people will think I can't handle the meetings."
Yet in an anonymous survey SM conducted in January, 38 percent of planners reported taking "mental health" days to recover from on-the-job stress. Three out of ten admitted that their stress levels were "somewhat" to "very" harmful to their ability to manage their meetings, and over half sleep no more than five hours a night during their biggest meeting. Such findings are alarming in light of new research showing that stress is even more damaging to one's health than previously believed: Acute or prolonged stress, experts now say, not only weakens the immune system but has been linked to a higher risk of several illnesses, including depression, heart disease, and cancer.
Just ask Fausel. His habit of working 15-hour days "whether I needed to or not" led to myriad health problems, from a blood clot to diabetes to a stomach ulcer to two -- yes, two -- types of cancer, right up to the heart trouble that sparked the epiphany that his workaholic lifestyle was killing him. Or consider Carolyn Luscombe, who once got so sick during a show she literally cracked a rib coughing. "I don't get mentally stressed, but it comes out in my body," says the president of Toronto-based Eclectic Events International. "If I'm ragingly ill, that's a telltale sign my event's going to be really good."
Don't Worry, Be Happy
If there's anyone who understands stress on both the planning and hotel sides, it's Janet Grun, who juggles a full-time job in catering sales at the Plaza San Antonio, A Marriott Hotel, with her responsibilities as a planner for the Society of Corporate Meeting Professionals. Grun's sales quotas for 2003 are up 10 percent, despite the down economy and a decrease in citywide conventions. Meanwhile, the planners she works with are panic-buying: "When the phone rings, I've got to drop everything and shift gears," she says. "Clients can't sense you might be in a crunch -- they need to hear that smile on your face." Grun preserves her good humor with inspirational quotes posted around her office and a boom box she plays whenever she books a piece of business. "It's my fight music," she explains, laughing. "It means, 'Mama's brought one in!' "
Debbi Boyne's crash course in stress management began with a cruel twist of fate: Her husband became ill with a potentially fatal liver disease at the same time that her sister was undergoing a double mastectomy. Boyne, meetings manager for the Society of Exploration Geophysicists in Tulsa, OK, and a self-described "perfectionist" who'd always prided herself on not letting her personal life affect her work, was suddenly her family's sole breadwinner as well as caretaker for her husband, sister, and 10-year-old nephew. Her biggest challenge was "realizing I wasn't Superwoman -- I had to learn to ask for help." With a strong support network of friends, she was able to keep her head level despite daily crises. At the office, a sympathetic supervisor gave her time off and helped her delegate her work; she also found a mentor, another planner who'd been through similar challenges.
A year later, with her sister and husband in remission and leading healthy, productive lives, Boyne insists "every bit" of the stress was worth it. "I grew so much through this whole process," she says. "I learned I could be okay with things not being perfect and that I was capable of unconditional love." She also learned to let go: "When I get stressed out over work now, I remember that no one will die if I don't choose the perfect hotel. I make the decision and move on."
As for Luscombe, she still maintains her broken rib was worth the award she won for the show that caused her coughing fit. Fausel, however, barely resembles his old self. The former workaholic who often dined on whatever appetizers he could cadge at receptions now eats properly, exercises regularly, naps frequently, and watches Murder, She Wrote -- his favorite show -- "religiously." He's even turned his experiences into a workshop for planners on how to maintain good humor, a positive attitude, and a true spirit of hospitality in an industry that demands perfection. "Before, work was just a challenge," he offers. "Now it's a challenge, and I'm having fun doing it."