Walking out of the identity conference in Texas feels a bit like leaving a Renaissance fair where everyone forgot their costumes but kept the ticket prices. Vendors pulled me aside, whispering like medieval peasants terrified of offending the king, to confess that day one was bustling, but day two had all the excitement of a church basement bake sale after the brownies are gone.
And the number of contacts generated? Down nearly 50% from last year.
At this point, you have to admire the consistency. Conference ROI goes down. Quadrant influence goes up, but only if the check clears.
Then there’s the booth price. I was told a mid-sized booth costs around $80,000, though honestly it could be $80 or $800,000 and the punchline would still land the same:
You’re paying for the privilege of standing in a room where the real product is visibility, and visibility has a SKU.
If you want to speak at these events, you must first pay tribute. The more you pay the more important your message is. Today. At the conference. Until someone pays more. It’s very feudal, like a cyber-era version of tossing a sack of grain at the local warlord and hoping he says something nice about your crops.
But here’s the biggest wrinkle: companies still make multi-million-dollar buying decisions based on analyst data. Analyst data that is, let’s be generous here, informed by who purchased the bigger analyst access package and purchased the larger booth with the fancier espresso machine.
At some point, someone needs to say what we’re all thinking: If this analyst ran the FDA, drug approvals would come in tiered pricing packages.
- Bronze: Approval in three months. Up to 50 side effects allowed.
- Silver: Approval in two months. Up to 100 side effects allowed
- Gold: Approval in one month. Up to 200 side effects allowed.
- Platinum: Approval today. Your drug is now “Visionary.” Unlimited side effects.
Congratulations!
I’m being facetious, of course, but only because reality hasn’t caught up to the joke yet.
The whole analyst ecosystem is a beautifully crafted paradox: everyone admits it’s pay-to-play, yet everyone behaves as if Moses carried the Magic Quadrant down from Mount Sinai.
Someday we may collectively wake up and realize that paying to be ranked, then paying again to brag about the ranking, then paying to speak about our ranking at a conference is a business model that would make even a medieval indulgence-peddler blush.
Until then, enjoy the conference coffee. It’s the only thing in the entire building that isn’t pay-for-play.
(Though give it time.)
And still, I can't wait for next year's conference.
"Reprinted with permission by Joseph Miceli"
