Vocation or calling?

When your own mother kindly reminds you that she still does not know how to explain to her friends what her son does for a living after thirty years in a profession, one cannot but reflect on why that is.

Formally, I am a professor of geography and history. Alas, without a single lesson in an actual classroom, for which I studied. My mother still sees this profession as fancier than that of an event manager. She simply cannot explain what an event manager does. Truth be told, sometimes, I struggle, too.

I thus wonder if I am to blame for not explaining what I do in the simplest terms. Or is this a symptom of a broader problem? Perhaps the reason is that we live in an industry that everyone is part of, many comment on, but few understand holistically. Events are not only the stage, the lighting, the coffee breaks, and the name badges. Events are spaces for meeting, building trust, sharing ideas, and fostering change. Our industry is a geography of relationships and a history of moments that often linger longer than any title in a coursebook. I may not have chosen the wrong profession after all. I simply switched the classroom for the meeting hall.

The question of the professionalisation of the events industry has been a perennial problem since the industry’s modern origins. This coincided symbolically with the opening of Cankarjev dom in 1983. Needless to say, event organisers existed before.

When I joined the team of Cankarjev dom in the nineties, our team came from all walks of life – we had economists, linguists, art historians, journalists, culturologists, tourism workers, marketing experts and many others who were pushed into the realm of events by chance or a combination of curiosity, organisational talent and a pinch of craziness.

Yet it was only with the creation of a professional congress department within Cankarjev dom that our profession began to emerge more prominently in conversations and with greater ambition. When I joined the team of Cankarjev dom in the nineties, our team came from all walks of life – we had economists, linguists, art historians, journalists, culturologists, tourism workers, marketing experts and many others who were pushed into the realm of events by chance or a combination of curiosity, organisational talent and a pinch of craziness. No one among us had a diploma in event management. At the time, such a degree simply did not exist, though there was an unofficial degree within the industry. It was called the IAPCO Seminar and was hosted in Wolfsberg, Switzerland. Whoever acquired this degree belonged to an exclusive circle of people who began to understand that congresses are not organised solely with goodwill and a voluminous schedule planner, but with a thorough methodology, standards, and know-how. Nearly all project leaders in Cankarjev dom attended this seminar. We learned much of what is today considered professional event management then and there.

This remains one of the greatest paradoxes in our industry. Unlike law, medicine or architecture, event organising in Slovenia never developed a formally regulated system for entering the profession. There are no foreseen educational requirements or a licence, let alone a final exam. In addition, no chamber would set requirements for who can and cannot organise events. Anyone can enter the industry if they are brave enough, socially intelligent, empathetic, competent at solving crises at three in the morning and have thick skin. For a long time, this was one of the greatest advantages of the industry – the diversity of outlooks, know-how and personal stories fostered an unrivalled energy. The nineties were also an era when teams comprised individuals who could see the broader picture, work efficiently, and improvise in situations where handbooks would offer little support.

Event organising was a school of life, not an academic discipline.

Many of the most prominent Slovenian event organisers thus did not come out of a formal educational system but earned their stripes in practice, through mentorship, mistakes, and sleepless nights. They cut their teeth on projects where everything fell apart five minutes before the opening, yet the audience still lauded the event as if everything had been planned to the last second.

If anyone can organise an event, who then sets standards? Who safeguards quality? Who is in charge of knowledge transfer to younger generations? Who explains the difference between logistics and the dramaturgy of the event, between protocol and hospitality, programme and experience?

Today, event organising is considerably more demanding than it was in an epoch when we had to use analogue phones, send offers via fax machines, and do headcounts with a pen and paper. Conversely, a modern event manager must be adept at production, finances, digital tools, sustainability, security, data, marketing, psychology, audiences, sponsorships, technology and AI. While mastering all this, they still need to know how to look someone in the eye. Hence, the question is no longer whether event organising is a profession. Of course it is. The real question is whether we are prepared to see it as its own sector.

a modern event manager must be adept at production, finances, digital tools, sustainability, security, data, marketing, psychology, audiences, sponsorships, technology and AI.

The first major step towards the professionalisation of the industry was taken in Slovenia as late as 2018, when it introduced the national vocational qualification “Organiser of business events”. Yet even this milestone reveals the peculiarities of our profession. For the aforementioned job, there are no restrictions on who can organise events. It predominantly sets out the know-how and competencies individuals often gain through practice: at venues, on organising committees, in event offices, in agencies, and in countless situations no coursebook can foresee.

With this step, our country indirectly acknowledged something the industry has long been aware of: in Slovenia, event managers are not born in lecture halls, but on the field – whilst thumbing through schedule sheets, offers, attending technical rehearsals, dealing with speaker cancellations, delays by subcontractors and during moments when everything must seem flawless on the outside, even if a tiny organisational fallout is taking place backstage.

The German model is vastly different. The vocation “Veranstaltungskaufmann/-frau” is a government-recognised qualification in the events industry. Its description includes all that we know from organising events: event design, organisation, execution and evaluation, preparing marketing concepts, making calculations, assessing risk, advising clients, preparing offers and coordinating the execution.

If we approach this from a broader European framework, we can see the whole picture. Slovenia recognises this job primarily as a national vocational qualification, which, a priori, attests to one’s competencies without requiring much proof. Austria, on the other hand, clearly classifies event management as an economic activity. Germany went the furthest, adding industry to a nationally recognised system of professional education.

The difference is paramount. In Slovenia, the system largely recognises knowledge gained in practice. In Germany, au contraire, they systematically develop, transfer and evaluate this knowledge. This is where professionalisation plays a key role: do we wish to remain an industry of enthusiasts who rely on talent, improvisation and personal experience, who learned the ropes from peers, or do we begin to build a system that transfers knowledge systematically, creates clear standards and helps emerging generations to see a professionalised path into the profession?

Undoubtedly, this remains one of the key tasks of the Slovenian Convention Bureau. Its new strategy is ambitiously designed to attract new talent, but a long road lies ahead before the story becomes a reality. This requires more persistence and institutional bravery. The end goal should be clear: we should have a consistently operating international event academy that would not only educate classic event managers but also all the new profiles without whom the events industry can no longer function. In the nineties, the profile of an event organiser was relatively simple. Today, the picture is completely different – we have growth managers, AI specialists, data experts, influencer marketing managers, sustainability experts, professionals in sustainability, digital production and attendee experience. None of these job titles existed back then. Today, companies desperately need them.

the problem arises when we ask whether we can talk about a profession without a unified educational system and a single certification system.

The industry finds itself in a situation where universities and colleges are scrambling to keep pace with change. An overwhelming number of employees gain knowledge on their own: through online courses, certificates issued by tech platforms, mentorship programmes, and, above all, practical work. This can be an advantage in terms of curiosity, resilience and entrepreneurship. Still, the problem arises when we ask whether we can talk about a profession without a unified educational system and a single certification system.

Classic theories on vocation emphasise three elements: specialised knowledge, formalised knowledge transfer and control over entry into a profession. The events industry in Slovenia meets the first criterion – we have know-how, talents and experiences. We are terrible at the other two criteria. Even today, we do not transfer knowledge systematically enough, and entering the profession often involves a combination of serendipity, personal resourcefulness, and meeting the right mentor. Hence, the challenge that lies ahead for the Slovenian Convention Bureau is clear: if we want the events industry to become a mature profession, organising events alone will not cut it. We must organise knowledge and its transfer.

When the next time a colleague (or my mother) asks me, a bit horrified, what an event manager is, I will have an austere reply ready. More importantly, I will be able to say that we still have much work ahead in promoting and establishing our own profession.

What must also be noted is that not everyone deserves this title. If someone orders sandwiches, books a venue or event hall, and hires an AV team for sound, that does not make them an event manager.

Buying a camera does not make someone a photographer. Writing a post on LinkedIn does not make someone a communications strategist.

That is why I tend to draw parallels with the theatre. If we examine the theatre and the events industry, an absurd paradox is at play. The theatre has considerably more formally defined professions, standards, and national job qualifications than the events industry, even though it employs far fewer people and has an incomparably smaller economic impact. Numerous staff members who are renowned in our industry today began their professional paths in the theatre. There, jobs are clearly defined. We know who the producer, the dramaturg, and the lighting manager are. Not least, we know who the stage manager is.

The latter role is particularly intriguing and relevant for this story. There is an official national vocational qualification for a stage manager in Slovenia. Their task is to coordinate all elements of a show: production, technical aspects, light, sound, performers and the timeline. A stage manager is in charge of transforming a creative vision into seamless execution. Sounds familiar? In truth, a stage manager in a theatre is the closest approximation to an event manager on stage. Yet, there is a key difference. A stage manager is not a producer. They never have been and never will be.

That is why I become cautious when I encounter individuals who claim they “produced” an event. In our jargon, the word “producer” has a very clear meaning and typically requires a very specialised education. Many individuals who use the term “event producer” are, by and large, responsible for tasks that more closely resemble those of a stage manager or project leader. The difference is not only semantic. There is also a professional, responsibility-related and price difference. All these elements create confusion, especially in the public sector, where clients can hardly distinguish between producing, executing, and coordinating an event. P

Public institutions thus purchase services from self-proclaimed event producers rather than hiring professional event agencies that provide references, teams, and accountability.

A professional event agency is not one person with a good idea and a phone in hand. It is a well-coordinated orchestra of people with diverse know-how, from producers, project managers, and scriptwriters to technical directors, light designers and engineers, sound engineers, protocol managers, communication experts, sustainability advisors, and finance experts. An excellent event is not the direct effect of an inspired individual but a carefully coordinated effort by numerous professionals. The worst thing to do is to encapsulate all this into a catchy job title, sell it for more and pretend we bought the sector. In reality, clients who fall for this dupe often buy fog along with an adjoining receipt.

There is still only one national vocational qualification for someone who leads an international conference for thousands of attendees, tens of suppliers, an international team, demanding logistics, and a multi-million budget.

Finally, we reach the essence of the problem. Years ago, our country recognised the need to formally identify the job title of a stage manager coordinating a theatre play. Yet there is still only one national vocational qualification for someone who leads an international conference for thousands of attendees, tens of suppliers, an international team, demanding logistics, and a multi-million budget. If that suffices, then the question I posed in the title needs no answer. If, conversely, we believe the events industry represents one of the most complex project activities in the modern economy, it is time we begin thinking about our standards, competencies and professional identity.

The greatest issue in our industry is that we have had to prove for too long that we are competent at everything. Now we must prove who we are. The quality of a vocation is not measured in technology, but by the people creating it.