i figured out why I didnt hate conventions sooner: Until last year, I always had an assignment, so I didnt have to sit all 3 days listening to that drivel....
When I "came into the truth," the DC's were actually a lot of fun (mid-70s). There were all sorts of volunteer jobs that served as a distraction to the program. One of the dubs who took me under his wing then was involved in Food Service and drafted me to work with him. This became my "job" at every DC for the next umpteen years. Before long I was an "overseer" in Food Service. Our city hosted several conventions every summer, and I worked at all or most of them. This meant coming in very early in the a.m., leaving late at night, and spending most of the time while the program droned on - filling out paperwork in the back room and chatting up co-workers. There was a little down time and that's when I took notes. On reflection, I really only paid attention to two or three talks a day. The rest of the time I was working. But I also made a lot of friends. We spent a lot of time together and shared a bond.
All this volunteer fervor led to a "promotion" in later years after Food Service was "simplified" (phased out) and I was assigned to the Most Holy (administration, located upstairs in the enclosed luxury boxes). For several years, I reported there an hour or two before the program started, and sat up there all day. It was not at all like going to a DC, but more like coordinating a concert; you got to meet all the "rock stars" from Bethel. This experience was a major eye opener for me. The "prominent elders" and their wives took over the luxury suite and pretended to work all day. Some took notes, especially the wives, but most of us had paperwork and organizational chores to perform and there were lots of times when several of us huddled around a corner table and conferred on the quality of some particular talk or listened to a Bethel heavy tell war stories.
The food was great, too. No hoagies or pudding cups. We brought in all sorts of snacks, fresh fruit, cookies, and fresh salads. There was always a pot of fresh coffee brewing and a cooler with soft drinks with big brand names on them. The set-up was offensive to my wife, who after a couple of hours up there went back downstairs and thereafter refused to sit there during the convention. She said it wasn't a genuine convention experience. She was right but - like the pharisees of old - I was not about to surrender my place and my position. I felt like I was in a special club. It was all too heady an experience and I was young and impressionable. I didn't say that, though; what I said was, I "have a job to do."
Eventually, the clique of "prominent elders" who ran the convention fell out of favor with a new CO and other guys were assigned to adminstrative tasks and I wasn't invited to join them. So I began to sit in the auditorium for three or four days, something I hadn't done in 10 or 12 years. It was awful! It's amazing how dull and repetitive the talks become when you are not following along on the outline, making notes in the margin for the Convention Overseer. In the auditorium where the seats were uncomfortable and the temperature either too hot or too cold, I had a hard time staying engaged and focused. I came to realize how unpleasant this all was for most of the rank and file, especially those with children and those without a family support system at home.
That was one of the many "aha!" moments that led me to reevaluate my commitment to dubdom and make an exit. My only regret is that it took me another 10 years to leave.
