Agents’ Meeting in Miami

This was the worst agents’ meeting Air France ever has held. I’m quoting the Marketing Manager, a very self-contained Frenchman. It began with the hotel, which was in unbelievable contrast to the gorgeous places we have stayed at other meetings throughout Central America. It was perfectly comfortable, but vaguely shabby. Service was excellent, but the food! I marvel at a “chef” who is able to serve eggs, melon, and even salmon that are completely tasteless.

I arrived on Saturday, before the others. When I took a look around at the other hotel guests, I had trouble restraining my giggles until I was locked discretely in my room. I wished I could be in the lobby when the contingent from Air France Mexico and the other agents arrived.

Later I was pleased to see how gracious everyone was about the situation. No overt grumbling. The new Air France Regional Director was wild, however. And the poor young man in charge of arrangements was distraught and said he never would book a meeting again without a personal visit to the hotel ahead of time. Apparently he had accepted the accommodations through the travel agent Air France uses for their passengers. (She usually is so good that I can’t understand how this one got by her.)

 

The meeting was scheduled for Monday and Tuesday. Therefore, I went up on Saturday so I could do a bit of shopping. The hotel van took me back and forth to a nearby mall late Saturday afternoon. It was the day before Mothers’ Day. The mall was wall-to-wall people, at least two-thirds of them were children playing alone or in groups half-under clothes racks where you couldn’t see them until you were about to trip over them. I don’t know whether the stores—Burdine’s, J.C. Penny’s, and Sears—were smaller with less walking space than in newer stores or whether I had a mild case of claustrophobia because of the crowds. I bought a couple of things and fled.

I had booked a car for the next day, planning to return to the nearby mall and a discount one across the street for a more leisurely shopping expedition. No way. I headed north to my own stomping grounds. Even so, it took two-and-a-half hours to locate the suitcase I needed to compliment one Carli brought me at Easter. I would not let myself stop for other errands or food until I succeeded.

I lunched, finally, at 2:30, then shopped with modest success until 4:30. I actually guessed the right direction back to the expressway, but managed to swing onto the northward leg and the toll road accidentally. The young man in the toll booth was pleasantly concerned and helpful—then demanded 75 cents. I followed his excellent directions, got off the toll road and back onto Sunrise, from which I had departed so recently. This time I found the proper ramp and headed back to Miami and the hotel. Most of the other convention attendees had arrived by the time I walked in with my shopping bags.

 

Usually our meetings are held in Spanish. I understand about two-thirds of what is said. This time we had the new Sales Manager for North and South America with us. He is American and speaks no Spanish. The morning session was in English. I loved it, but it put an awful burden on some of the other agents. All the others had to ad lib translations of their reports. Even though most of them are fluent in English, it was obvious that they skipped a lot they had intended to say. I felt sorry for them.

After a stressful morning, we adjourned to the worst lunch buffet any hotel ever has provided. The food—what there was of it—was displayed attractively but was ordinary in content.

Normally there is a gorgeous dinner in a private room to end a meeting. This time, many of the people had to leave at the end of the afternoon session, so we had a convivial, informal, tasteless dinner in a wing of the regular dining room. The best thing about it was watching through floor-to-ceiling windows the incredible wind and lightening of the storm that earlier had spawned the tornado that raked Miami.

 

Tuesday morning we checked out of the hotel, took the van to the airport, and deposited luggage in the Air France office. We had a tour of Air France facilities and the new, spectacular American terminal (well worth walking to the end of the main terminal to see). We were a fairly small group. Some had flown out early and others who had brought wives and children felt they could give the somewhat useless morning a pass.

 

Three of us were flying TACA home. We checked in early and joined four others who were on later flights. I was jolted to find myself being rushed out to a taxi and told we all were going shopping. Not the sort of thing I do before departure time. We went to a lovely mall, separated for an hour, then regrouped for a quick, happy lunch.

By the time I reached my boarding gate, the only human beings in sight were the staff; doors were closed; and I nearly had a heart attack before they ushered me through to the waiting plane.