Menu
The next morning, a delivery truck rumbled up to the convention center. Arthur met the driver at the curb, practically hugging the cardboard boxes. He spent the afternoon sliding cardstock into plastic, a rhythmic, soul-soothing task.
Arthur stood by the coffee station, watching a sea of perfectly displayed names. No one thanked the plastic sleeves, but as he watched a CEO exchange a card with a startup founder—both badges sitting perfectly level—Arthur knew he had bought more than just office supplies. He’d bought the smooth start of a thousand conversations.
The "Great Conference Kerfuffle" began exactly forty-eight hours before the Global Tech Summit, when Arthur, a junior assistant with a penchant for over-preparedness, realized he had three thousand printed badges but zero ways to attach them to human beings.
"Bulk quantities," he muttered, filtering his search. "Next-day shipping. Caribou County delivery."