{"id":2543,"date":"2007-09-18T13:38:00","date_gmt":"2007-09-18T13:38:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/test.simple-talk.com\/uncategorized\/registering-for-pass-the-deadly-game\/"},"modified":"2017-08-10T12:54:33","modified_gmt":"2017-08-10T12:54:33","slug":"registering-for-pass-the-deadly-game","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/blogs\/registering-for-pass-the-deadly-game\/","title":{"rendered":"Registering for PASS: the deadly game"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>MONDAY, 17 September 2007<\/strong><\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">On a slightly overcast Denver Monday morning, I strolled into the Colorado Convention Centre, intent on registering for the PASS conference. I stared in wonderment at the distinctive blue bear, entered the building, and followed the sign for &#8220;PASS registration&#8221;. I duly approached the registration desk.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Hi, I&#8217;m here to register&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Great, what Name?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">I allowed a slightly smug note to enter my voice.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Davis; it&#8217;s a press registration&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Oh, OK, can I see a business card, please?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">With an impressive flourish, I pulled a card out of my back pocket.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Thanks, I&#8217;ll just pull up the details and print your badge&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">At this point another member of the registration staff joined in, muttering that she needed to &#8220;check this out&#8221;. She stared at my business card with extreme scepticism.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Simple Talk&#8230;never heard of it&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Oh. I&#8217;m sorry. But I am registered for a press pass&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;I don&#8217;t think you are.&#8221; She gave me the Cagney and Lacey look<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">I briefly imagined a childhood spent watching crime serials on daytime TV, acting out the fantasy of pursuing dangerous Columbian drug barons. Her ambitions had been thwarted but she was living the dream.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Yes, I am. I have a full conference pass, which Anna Vue upgraded to a press pass&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Anna who?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Vue, v-u-e.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Never heard of her&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Her tight smile indicated that she knew my type, and had exposed my ruse for the shameful deception that it was.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Well, she is the one who registered me for the press pass&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Anna Vue does not exist.&#8221; <\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">You could almost hear the incidental music. I was out of my depth here. Playing a game for which I didn&#8217;t know the rules. I stared at her incredulously.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Anna Vue <i>does<\/i> exist&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Fortunately, the original chap intervened at this point and put us out of our misery.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;What conference are you registering for?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Of course, I was at the wrong registration desk. I turned away feeling slightly depressed and wearied by the confrontation and stumbled on to the real PASS desk. I checked my directions with a security lady, in a once-bitten-twice-shy sort of way.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Down this way for PASS registration?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;No straight on and right for registration; down there for lunch&#8230;make sure you hurry and get registered then get yourself down for some food, because we stop serving at 1&#8221; smiled the security lady, with reassuring kindness.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">The real PASS registration went seamlessly and I trotted back round the corner with lifted spirits, and down the stairs for a spot of lunch. The PASS attendant glanced at my newly acquired press badge and directed me to a serving table, laden with silver tureens. Ah, the conference tureen, a sight to strike fear into the strongest heart. I approached them with a due sense of trepidation, but was distracted by the sight of a familiar face. Standing by the table was Rick Heiges. My spirits rose still further. Rick wasn&#8217;t exactly a close friend, but I&#8217;d met him on several previous occasions and he was a nice guy. I had tried on a couple of occasions to get him to write for Simple-Talk.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Hi Rick&#8221; I beamed&#8221;, extending a hand, &#8220;Great to meet you again&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Rick looked distracted. He clearly had other things on his mind.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Erm, yes, yes. OK. Erm, can you excuse me for a second?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;No problem&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">I returned my attention to the tureens. I peered dubiously into the first one. Was something moving in there? I threw caution to the wind and began ladening my plate with food. I was on to tureen number four when I was distracted again, by a tap on my shoulder.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;Erm, sorry&#8221; a second PASS lady said apologetically &#8220;Can I just check your badge again&#8230;oh, yes, err, you see you&#8217;re registered for the Tuesday pre-conference session only, so you get lunch with that&#8230;but not today. Sorry if that wasn&#8217;t pointed out to you&#8221;<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">It was a firm but tactful reproach. I hadn&#8217;t even realised it was a pre-conference session lunch, and the first PASS attendant hadn&#8217;t said anything. We were in an awkward spot here. I stood by the gleaming tureens, holding my plate of food uncertainly. She was apologetic, but clearly unsure whether to allow the interloper to go ahead and eat the food he&#8217;d already purloined, or to take his plate, send him packing, and scrape the food ceremoniously into the bin, possibly to the sound of faint cheering in the background.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">&#8220;It&#8217;s fine. Go ahead&#8221; she said after a few seconds that seemed like longer.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">I sat and ate, unsure whether this was victory or defeat. A few moments later the PASS lady returned. She apologised for the awkwardness of what had happened and wondered why &#8220;that man had felt the need to intervene&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">It turns out that the sleuth-like Rick had spotted the &#8220;T&#8221; on my badge (for &#8220;Tuesday&#8221;) as I approached to shake his hand, and had excused himself in order to alert the relevant authorities.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Later, back in my hotel room, I mused on why Rick had acted in the way he did. We&#8217;d met before and he could easily have alerted me to my mistake with a wry smile, and avoided all the fuss and embarrassment.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Viewed dispaasionately, however,&#160;one has&#160;to acknowledge that&#160;Rick had succeeded in unmasking fraudulent use of PASS dining facilities, where others before him had failed. And you&#8217;ve got to admire his attention to detail and keen sense of rectitude &#8211; qualities that will serve PASS well.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">Cagney and Lacey would have been proud.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>MONDAY, 17 September 2007 On a slightly overcast Denver Monday morning, I strolled into the Colorado Convention Centre, intent on registering for the PASS conference. I stared in wonderment at the distinctive blue bear, entered the building, and followed the sign for &#8220;PASS registration&#8221;. I duly approached the registration desk. &#8220;Hi, I&#8217;m here to register&#8221;&#8230;&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":200703,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,47125],"tags":[],"coauthors":[],"class_list":["post-2543","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blogs","category-editorials"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2543","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/200703"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2543"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2543\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":72077,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2543\/revisions\/72077"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2543"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2543"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2543"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.red-gate.com\/simple-talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=2543"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}