Nimble Management Teams

A week after Paul Lovett's presentation, his older brother Craig also came to speak with us. He spoke more about VANOC's journey and the bigger picture of planning an Olympics, not just Cleanevent's role.

The timeline of Vancouver's preparation, as he presented it, looked something like this:

• 1960 - Vancouver started toying with the idea of hosting the Games
• 1980 - They started seriously considering making a bid
• 1990 - They started planning for the bid process
• 1999 - The bid process began; 32 cities were narrowed down to 16, then 8, then 5
• 2003 - Vancouver won the bid to host the 2010 Winter Olympics Games

This was $1 billion process, including infrastructure from roadways to the airport to the power grid to the waste system, et cetera, et cetera.

Craig then challenged us to list the "most important players", or stakeholders, in the Games. We decided there were:

• The Athletes - of course, they are the reason for the Games; they put on the show
• Management - they provide organization, safety, policy, etc
• The Sponsors - they provide the essential funding
• The Media - they are the "eyes of the world"
• The Spectators - they bring in revenue, but also provide some of the "wow factor"
• The T.V. Audience - they indirectly provide even more revenue than spectators in the stands
• The Olympic Family - this term is used not only for the relatives of athletes but for anyone involved with the governing bodies of the sport or the Games.

We also came up with a list of some of the "Functional Areas" that play roles in the planning and execution of an event like this:

• Sport - controls everything involving actual competition within the Field of Play (FOP)
• Site Management - deals with the overall venue and logistics
• Transport - responsible for getting all athletes, spectators, employees, volunteers, contractors, equipment, etc to the venue
• Overlay - designs the physical layout of the venue ("the people who get handed a box of jigsaw pieces" - Craig Lovett)
• Wayfinding - responsible for all signage to get spectators, employees, vendors, contractors, etc from their doorsteps and into the venue
• Security - monitors access to the venue and safety within it
• Broadcast/Press Media - transfers images and information from the venue to the outside world
• Look - designs and hangs the "frosting" - posters, banners, fence coverings, etc.
• Food & Beverage - catering for workers and concessions for spectators
• SCW - snow removal, cleaning, and waste removal from front- and back-of-the-house

Sounds like there's a lot going on here, eh? Craig had one main point behind all of this: all these different aspects MUST come together to become one team. They must integrate.

This idea of "integration" is a buzz word that I've been buzzing around for a while now (my Honors Thesis paper is on Integrated Rural Tourism), and it is so essential to a large event like this. Craig also called it "venuisation", turning all the individual functional areas into a venue management team in which each department has a seat at the table.

Without open lines of communication, each area is operating in a vacuum and when the event gets closer and their isolated little bubble comes in contact with another area's bubble, both are going to pop and lie in pieces on the ground. Craig explained that “the best events in the world have nimble management teams”, the ones who recognize that “at some stage you have to stop planning and start doing”.

This is especially important with the Olympics, because there is only one Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games - there is no "next time" for VANOC to get it right. They get one shot. “What’s the most important thing in the Olympic Games?" Craig asked. "Fixing it right now”.

Venue management must put themselves in the place of spectators early on, and utilize each area's expertise in a dialogue to discuss the most practical ways to plan for every potential scenario that may arise.

That is what I LOVE about event planning. There are countless challenges, all unique to venue and the event and the location and the people involved. Every action must be thought through 10, 20, 50 steps down the road to consider all possible repercussions. Each action must be run by a dozen other departments; it is such a collaboration of minds, all experts in their own fields. It's amazing what people can achieve when working together. I look forward to the day when I can be a part of such a team.

The Bid Process

Let's not forget that I also took classes in Whistler. My second class featured Paul Lovett, co-founder of Cleanevent and the man responsible for bringing us into the internship program. The focus of his lecture was on the bid process, and although he gave us a wealth of information it left me wanting to know more about bids (and how I can be involved in them).

First he explained that the IOC wants boxes upon boxes of information from the bidding city, an immense amount of work. Some of the major things they focus on these days are security, legacy, and sustainability. That being said, there isn't really a magic formula for the approach to the proposal. Sometimes it's all about building new infrastructure -- for instance, VANOC took a once dirt road in Highway 99 and went as far as blasting the mountainsides to make it wider -- yet sometimes the IOC wants a promise to not build any new structures, like Rio pledged since they already built a solid infrastructure of other games.

Sometimes it comes down largely to politics. Paul's opinion was that Chicago was too cocky and did not fight for the bid, and that Obama didn't do anything to help his hometown. One of the main things Rio had going for it was simply that South America had never hosted the Games before, as well as the fact that they threatened not to bid again if they didn't win in 2016 (they had also bid for 2012).

From there Paul moved into talking about what a contracted company such as Cleanevent goes through to win the bid from the whatever organizing committee is hosting the games (this goes for the Olympics but also things like the Commonwealth Games and other sporting events that Cleanevent works on).

First, Cleanevent goes through a process called succumbment; they succumb to the city's bid team and work for them - for free - to help put together the SCW (snow, cleaning, waste) portion of the overall bid for the Games. They sometimes even succumb to more than one city (for instance, they helped both London and New York for the 2012 Olympics). They will have a very strong "in" if they help the winning city, so assisting more than one increases their chances of coming out on the winning side.

The next thing Cleanevent does is submit an RFP - request for proposal. Numbers must be crunched, and both a technical bid (in terms of manhours and employees) and a commercial bid ($$$) are developed. Paul stressed to us the importance of never quoting hourly rates in the service industry. He also told us that if the job becomes much bigger than quoted, you should always finish the job before asking for  more money. If they’re happy with the job done, 9 out of 10 will pay more money to compensate for the extra work incurred by the company.

During this initial part of the bid, before the contract is awarded, is when many of the logistical details are planned out. What's important to remember is that at this stage "all you see is paper" - everything is based off of floor plans and diagrams and not off of an actual tour of the facilities.

Finally all applicants tour the venues and the EOI - expression of interest - process narrows down the field of bidders before going to tender. It is in the tender stage that legal consultants are brought in. Cleanevent's bid teams usually number around 15 people, mainly internal Cleanevent employees and a few from outside the company. In this critical time the bid manager must be strong enough to pull everyone together (Paul commented that in his experience a female is usually best at this role), and the marketing team must paint the story in a way that's appealing to what the organizing committee wants.

Although it is after the tender stage that a contract is awarded, Paul said that generally a tender is won even before the tender stage is reached. It's more about networking connections, and a relationship must be in place before even going to the bid table. One contract that Cleanevent is currently vying for, for example, is the Delhi Commonwealth Games. Delhi is far behind where they should be in this process, and the longer they wait the more they will be forced to go with a company like Cleanevent that has the proven industry experience. Other smaller companies don't have the luxury of simply copying and pasting bid proposals from similar events, so even though lack of planning time is frustrating to Cleanevent, it will most likely work in their advantage.

One tricky part of the contract is the issue of "field of play", and what - if any - portions of it the contracted cleaning company is required to clean. The lines are fuzzy here. In swimming competitions, for example, the pool is obviously field of play but what about the deck around the pool? It comes under the control of Sport, but they may still want the cleaning company to be responsible for it.

Paul told us about one event they worked (I cannot recall which it was, except that it was a large-scale Games) in which the contract stated that anything blue or green Cleanevent would not clean. They intended "blue" to mean water and "green" to mean grass, but the tennis courts had been painted blue and it turned out the organizing committee did want Cleanevent to take care of the courts. These types of confusions work to Cleanevent's financial advantage because they usually come to light fairly close to the Games, and by that point Cleanevent gets to charge for any changes to the initial contract.

Another change that brings in more money for Cleanevent is postponement of play. Scheduled competition days that become down days due to postponement are still charged as competition days, yet down days that become competition days also get to be charge as competition days since that type of work is being performed.

This lecture was really just a brief overview of the bid process. I can only imagine how exciting (and work intensive!) it must be to put together a bid to host the Olympics, not to mention to actually carry it to fruition. I hope one day I'll know first hand...

Puzzle Piece

The two pieces I posted regarding the luge accident have been drafted for quite a while. I didn't know where to put them. They are uncomfortable. They are not sunny. But they are necessary.

Chronologically they weren't ready to be posted right after the fact; they deserved more time, more thought. But to put them at the end, to have them appear glaringly at the top of the page as a punctuation mark forever, as representative of my entire experience? That wasn't right either.

Please don't look at these two posts as shoved into the middle of happier times. This is not an attempt to bury what happened by sweeping it under the rug. I also, however, don't want to ostracize that event and make it appear completely isolated from all of my subsequent experiences - on the contrary, it in some way influenced every encounter I had throughout the duration of my time in Whistler.

I'm still trying to find a place for this piece of my Olympic puzzle. If you ask me "How was the Olympics!?" I will answer that it was an amazing experience, because it was. If you (like so many people have already) ask me if I was there for the accident, I will tell you I was. It is not, however, something I am ready to openly discuss with people in casual conversation. It was not something I learned about on a breaking news story, as the rest of the U.S. did - it was something I experienced.

I plan to carry that burden without making a spectacle of it.

I Know How to Spell His Name.

I never met Nodar Kumaritashvili.

I do not know the sound of his voice.
I do not know what songs made him turn up the volume and sing aloud in the car.
I do not know his favorite color.

Here is what I do know.

I know that he was born three days after me on November 25th, 1988. He was 21 years old.

I know that he sought challenges. He chose to pursue a difficult career that requires a tremendous amount of technical skill at great personal risk. Even accessing proper training facilities, traveling to competition venues, and finding a qualified coach are significant obstacles in such a small sport world as luge.

I know that he was ambitious. He came here with the hopes of winning a medal despite being ranked 44th in the world. He believed in himself, and strove for excellence.

I know that he did not seek celebrity status in life. He chose the sport of luge, which goes virtually unnoticed in the athletic world except during a few days every four years at the Olympics. By aiming for a medal he sought honor, not everlasting world fame.

I know that he was brave. He came to Whistler knowing that he would be competing at the world's fastest track. He continued training after a dozen minor accidents occurred in the week leading up to Opening Ceremonies.

I know that he was focused. I could see it in his eyes as he adjusted his helmet and prepared to make what would become his final run. He took his sport seriously.

I know that my presence at the track and what I witnessed had a profound impact on me. He changed my life and my Olympic experience.

I know that he will never be forgotten. He will live forever in my glowing heart.

Blind-Sliding Low

I still have a hard time sorting out my feelings about Friday, February 12th, 2010. You all know, I'm sure, about the fatal luge accident that occurred during the final training runs for Men's Luge. I hope you only heard about it, and did not watch the gruesome video.

Death is a heartbreaking tragedy no matter what the circumstances. I can’t convey how much more difficult it is to face such a sorrowful incident in the midst of a large, juggernaut of an event like the Olympics. There is a line from a song by Ingram Hill that says “I don’t know what I’m feeling – it’s not alright, it can’t be”. That’s basically how I felt that Friday. There was no room for feeling distraught at a celebration as joyous as the Opening Ceremonies, yet I couldn’t feel right about cheering wildly in honor of Canada with this weight on my shoulders. I was in limbo, a weird funk, but of course time marches on.

I was there. I was standing inside Turn 16 – the final curve – the morning of the last practice runs for Men’s Luge. I saw the Italian gold medal favorite fly past me after faltering and correcting his positioning further up the track. I snapped photos of the screen displaying each athlete before they began their runs simply so that I could accurately caption my facebook photos later on. I focused my camera on the “Vancouver” lettering in the ice and waited until I heard the rumbling of the sled barreling around the corner. I rejoiced at catching the luger in frame. The second Georgian luger to take his run had been no different than the rest. I commented to myself that I had no idea how to pronounce his last name.

I don’t remember hearing an audible gasp from those inside Turn 16. There was the briefest of pauses as the whole world slowed down, then the medical team lounging on the Gator beside us sprang into action and raced out of the Dog Bone. The screen that had showed the luger fly off his sled and into the post beside the track went blank as my whole body went numb.

The three other interns and I walked out of track in a shocked daze, mumbling that we hoped he’d be okay and what a shame that he’d more than likely be out of the Olympics. We attempted to check on him from the same spot we watched the Romanian luger be loaded onto a stretcher the day before, but were stopped and asked to clear the area by a VANOC official. In hindsight, I will be eternally grateful for that.

We walked somberly back to the trailer and reported to Scott what we had just witnessed. The office was still quiet (which was the only reason all four of us had been at the track in the first place) so after not too long we were able to slip out into the Workforce Break Tent and watch the news updates on T.V. They replayed the video a couple times, which was completely nauseating to watch. None of us had an appetite for lunch but we ate anyway, clinging to some semblance of normalcy.

After repeatedly searching Google for updated information, we learned that the luger did not survive his injuries.

There was a void deep within the core of me. I immediately felt an unwarmable cold, and fatigue descended like a tidal wave. There was nothing to do but sit in the office and stare dejectedly at each other. As VANOC scrambled to keep media releases under control and a meeting was set up with luge coaches and captains, all of our workers were pulled off the mountain and contained within Lot 7. We speculated as to whether or not they would cancel the luge events, but Kelly pointed out that "the show must go on". That made me even more sick to my stomach, mostly because I knew he was right.

Since our team could no longer access the areas we were scheduled to clean, we were sent home early. Holly and I returned to camp to change and get ready to meet Sydney and Colleen in town to watch the Opening Ceremonies. I felt like I was in a fog. I didn't cry. I didn't want to talk about it, though Holly and I spoke briefly enough to agree that somehow we would feel differently if we hadn't been there - right there, in the Dog Bone, watching...

The Opening Ceremonies were beautiful. Part of me welcomed the distraction, although when the screens at Whistler Live in the Village Square temporarily lost the feed from Vancouver there was room for my mind to wander. Part of me didn't want to be there.

I found it cruelly ironic that the sixty seconds of silence in honor of Nodar Kumaritashvili equaled the approximate amount of time I knew of his existence before his name was ingrained in my memory forever. Tears finally streaked my face during K.D. Lang's rendition of Hallelujah, and I stood grateful for the drizzling rain and the hood that I used to conceal my face. I then felt strangely comforted when one arm of the torch did not rise triumphantly toward the ceiling to meet the others, as if it representing the piece that was irreplaceably missing from these Winter Games.

Oddly enough, that was the small bit of peace that I took with me when it was finally time to escape consciousness for a night's rest.