Why was Peter Jarvis picked to plan the 61st annual convention of the World Science Fiction Society after Toronto, his local chapter, won the bid for 2003? "I didn't want the job, so they chose me," he deadpans. "Because you'd have to be crazy to take this on."
And how. Crazy enough to spend four years as what amounts to the nonsalaried CEO/COO of a $1-million, nonprofit, all-volunteer organization with 500 employees. Crazy enough to devote 20-plus hours per week for four months planning a convention for nearly 5,000 -- all while holding down his paying gig as an insurance evaluation manager. Says Jarvis, "You learn not to sleep. Especially two weeks out, when you're working twelve hours a day [on the event]."
This willingness to work one's butt off for "egoboo" (that's sci-fi shorthand for "ego boost") is hardly the only unorthodox aspect of Worldcon, as the get-together is known. For starters, there's site selection, which is decided by the entire membership after years-long publicity campaigns by local chapters. "We typically get 1,500 voters out of an eligible 5,000 -- but no one knows which 1,500 it's going to be," explains Ben Yalow, facilities division head for this year's convention in Boston. "It drives facilities nuts."
Then there are the attendees themselves, hardly stereotypical geeks, notes Jarvis. "Many, especially the speakers, are professional writers and people in the movie business." They're also major partiers, with 25 different shindigs happening every evening. "We go through a ton of ice, literally, each night," says Jarvis. Even so, "The hotel people at the Fairmont Royal York said we were better behaved than some of the professional groups they get." And probably more versatile; after all, how many of your corporate attendees speak Klingon?