I was asked to pen a blog for the TTG, (travel trade paper), thus here, for your amusement are my neurotic ramblings...
Once they were Educationals, now they’re Fam Trips…
I’ve always found it ironic that in an industry that’s known for its tendency for unpredictable change, that the staple accolade of the overworked agent remains an expected “bonus” of our profession. Everyone’s had a customer wink wryly at and glibly comment that, “you must get tons of free holidays.” Far from seeming ungrateful I’d hardly imagine most customers would enjoy being taken on the tour of a hotels laundry room at 9am. Like most things in life our education comes at a price, and the old cliché rings true… there’s no free lunch.
With this in mind I was lucky enough to be invited to explore South Africa courtesy of Travel 2/4. Having not visited this country that’s had such a huge effect on how the world views racial equality I grabbed this opportunity with both grubby hands. What would I be doing… Who would I meet… whose corporate card would I be entertaining and which companies brochures would be destroying my return luggage allowance…? These important questions filled my head.
The outward flight was the usual collection of attempted ice braking and conversation of what to expect. As the flight wore on the boredom set in thus I decide to faint, which came as a surprise to everyone on the flight including myself. As I came to in the galley surrounded by concerned cabin crew I came to the realization that already this trip was full of new experiences, although that may have been the Oxygen talking.
I find that one of the great things about Fam Trips is that the vast majority of us are immediately flung together with a group of people whose only common thread is a shared profession. Like a microcosm of Big Brother, alliances are made, friendships are forged and from this ether the trip can be ruined or enriched. The great thing Travel 2/4 managed with this is that they by divided the “Mega Fam,” (their name, not mine), into smaller groups of 10. This gave better emphasis on teambuilding and allowed relationships to form organically rather than the pressure that comes from choosing friends from a large group.
I digress.
Our destination was the Isandlwana Battlefields, the location of the infamous Anglo-Zulu war of the late 1800’s. If you have no idea what I’m on about I’ll put everything into context…
“Zulus, sir. Thousands of them…”
Well, 4000 of them to be precise, everyone’s seen it, and thanks to a certain Mr. Rob Gerrard I lived it.
Rob is the Isandlwana Lodge’s resident Historian. He’s the man who has the sort of military background that makes Andy McNab seem like an overweight security guard and has an authoritarian voice that would make layby stand to attention. This type of voice lends itself well if you want to convince your men to fix bayonets and run into a hail of bullets, it also helps if you need to hold the attention of 10 travel agents.
Rob takes tours daily up into the battlefields but don’t make the mistake that his is a boring lesson on disremembered history. An extraordinarily passionate man, Rob has a voice that rolls and resonates as he manhandles history into the present moment. Listening to how the Zulu army engulfed the plain like a gigantic angry duvet I could almost hear them slapping their spears against their shields and could smell the nervous sweat, most likely coming from Rob’s captive audience.
Although his knowledge on the subject was without question, Rob clearly understood the role of drama in a story. Standing there, dressed like Indiana Jones at an interview he would frequently pause after a pivotal moment. On one occasion he dramatically slowed at a climactic point and let a silence hang in the air. My group uneasily shuffled their feet careful not to meet his intense gaze. With one fist in the air he bellowed out the Zulu war cry…
“Oooh Zutu!”
As his voice galloped across the arid scenery I half expected a huge spear to thud into my chest as the Zulu’s overran our position; by the look on my colleagues faces they were going down with me. As the story wore on my heart was racing and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. You can probably tell by this piece that my attention span isn’t the greatest, but Rob had me by the throat and I was investing everything in his passion. As his story reached its sad conclusion Rob finished by making an emotionally honest plea about the way in which today’s British veterans are treated, and such was his humility that many the group were tearful, (apart from myself who was still mentally fighting off the Zulu hoards).
As we all settled down in the bar for a post-battle drink I reflected on my experience. I find that most agents think of Fam Trips as a necessity of our employment. We’ve become desensitized to the freebie nature of these opportunities that we have come to demand them instead of enjoying them. Sitting there trying to make conversation with Rob’s intimidating intelligence, I realized that I was truly blessed. Here I was, in South Africa, in the middle of an adventure that I would have never been given the opportunity to experience had I not been a travel agent. As Rob impressively devoured a large Scotch I realized that this would not only prove a useful experience in the confines of my office, but would provide a fantastic memory, which would stay with me even if my chosen profession didn’t.
Thus I’d like to raise a large glass, to the Zulu’s, Rob’s and Travel 2/4’s of this world… they were once called Fams, now finally they’re Educationals again.
Once they were Educationals, now they’re Fam Trips…
I’ve always found it ironic that in an industry that’s known for its tendency for unpredictable change, that the staple accolade of the overworked agent remains an expected “bonus” of our profession. Everyone’s had a customer wink wryly at and glibly comment that, “you must get tons of free holidays.” Far from seeming ungrateful I’d hardly imagine most customers would enjoy being taken on the tour of a hotels laundry room at 9am. Like most things in life our education comes at a price, and the old cliché rings true… there’s no free lunch.
With this in mind I was lucky enough to be invited to explore South Africa courtesy of Travel 2/4. Having not visited this country that’s had such a huge effect on how the world views racial equality I grabbed this opportunity with both grubby hands. What would I be doing… Who would I meet… whose corporate card would I be entertaining and which companies brochures would be destroying my return luggage allowance…? These important questions filled my head.
The outward flight was the usual collection of attempted ice braking and conversation of what to expect. As the flight wore on the boredom set in thus I decide to faint, which came as a surprise to everyone on the flight including myself. As I came to in the galley surrounded by concerned cabin crew I came to the realization that already this trip was full of new experiences, although that may have been the Oxygen talking.
I find that one of the great things about Fam Trips is that the vast majority of us are immediately flung together with a group of people whose only common thread is a shared profession. Like a microcosm of Big Brother, alliances are made, friendships are forged and from this ether the trip can be ruined or enriched. The great thing Travel 2/4 managed with this is that they by divided the “Mega Fam,” (their name, not mine), into smaller groups of 10. This gave better emphasis on teambuilding and allowed relationships to form organically rather than the pressure that comes from choosing friends from a large group.
I digress.
Our destination was the Isandlwana Battlefields, the location of the infamous Anglo-Zulu war of the late 1800’s. If you have no idea what I’m on about I’ll put everything into context…
“Zulus, sir. Thousands of them…”
Well, 4000 of them to be precise, everyone’s seen it, and thanks to a certain Mr. Rob Gerrard I lived it.
Rob is the Isandlwana Lodge’s resident Historian. He’s the man who has the sort of military background that makes Andy McNab seem like an overweight security guard and has an authoritarian voice that would make layby stand to attention. This type of voice lends itself well if you want to convince your men to fix bayonets and run into a hail of bullets, it also helps if you need to hold the attention of 10 travel agents.
Rob takes tours daily up into the battlefields but don’t make the mistake that his is a boring lesson on disremembered history. An extraordinarily passionate man, Rob has a voice that rolls and resonates as he manhandles history into the present moment. Listening to how the Zulu army engulfed the plain like a gigantic angry duvet I could almost hear them slapping their spears against their shields and could smell the nervous sweat, most likely coming from Rob’s captive audience.
Although his knowledge on the subject was without question, Rob clearly understood the role of drama in a story. Standing there, dressed like Indiana Jones at an interview he would frequently pause after a pivotal moment. On one occasion he dramatically slowed at a climactic point and let a silence hang in the air. My group uneasily shuffled their feet careful not to meet his intense gaze. With one fist in the air he bellowed out the Zulu war cry…
“Oooh Zutu!”
As his voice galloped across the arid scenery I half expected a huge spear to thud into my chest as the Zulu’s overran our position; by the look on my colleagues faces they were going down with me. As the story wore on my heart was racing and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. You can probably tell by this piece that my attention span isn’t the greatest, but Rob had me by the throat and I was investing everything in his passion. As his story reached its sad conclusion Rob finished by making an emotionally honest plea about the way in which today’s British veterans are treated, and such was his humility that many the group were tearful, (apart from myself who was still mentally fighting off the Zulu hoards).
As we all settled down in the bar for a post-battle drink I reflected on my experience. I find that most agents think of Fam Trips as a necessity of our employment. We’ve become desensitized to the freebie nature of these opportunities that we have come to demand them instead of enjoying them. Sitting there trying to make conversation with Rob’s intimidating intelligence, I realized that I was truly blessed. Here I was, in South Africa, in the middle of an adventure that I would have never been given the opportunity to experience had I not been a travel agent. As Rob impressively devoured a large Scotch I realized that this would not only prove a useful experience in the confines of my office, but would provide a fantastic memory, which would stay with me even if my chosen profession didn’t.
Thus I’d like to raise a large glass, to the Zulu’s, Rob’s and Travel 2/4’s of this world… they were once called Fams, now finally they’re Educationals again.
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