ABOUT

HI, I’M BECKY.

HI, I’M BECKY.

HI, I’M BECKY.

HOW IT STARTED

HOW IT STARTED

HOW IT STARTED

At school, organising the leavers' ball seemed more important than studying for exams. At university, the social committee seemed more interesting than my degree. And sometimes I secretly enjoyed planning birthdays more than attending them.

We moved to the Isle of Man when I was seven, partly for the educational support. With two dyslexic parents and a dyslexic sibling, it was no surprise I struggled too.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep up academically. Everyone else seemed to understand how to read a clock face or which way the rabbit went around the tree to tie their shoes. I started to believe that maybe I was just a little bit thick, and worried about my future.

Turns out, while I was busy getting my left and right mixed up, I was getting pretty good at some other things.

At school, organising the leavers' ball seemed more important than studying for exams. At university, the social committee seemed more interesting than my degree. And sometimes I secretly enjoyed planning birthdays more than attending them.

We moved to the Isle of Man when I was seven, partly for the educational support. With two dyslexic parents and a dyslexic sibling, it was no surprise I struggled too.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep up academically. Everyone else seemed to understand how to read a clock face or which way the rabbit went around the tree to tie their shoes. I started to believe that maybe I was just a little bit thick, and worried about my future.

Turns out, while I was busy getting my left and right mixed up, I was getting pretty good at some other things.

THE OTHER STUFF.

THE OTHER STUFF.

THE OTHER STUFF.

While I struggled with things that seemed to come naturally to everyone else, I was picking up on things that weren't written down. Body language. How people behave in groups. The atmosphere in a room. How a story changes the way something feels. The tiny details that make people comfortable, curious, excited or connected.


After university, I started figuring out what I was actually good at, and what kind of career might make use of it. So I packed my bags, left the island and headed for London.

STORYTELLING · PATTERN RECOGNITION · PEOPLE · EXPERIENCE · DETAIL · THE BIG PICTURE

STORYTELLING · PATTERN RECOGNITION · PEOPLE · EXPERIENCE · DETAIL · THE BIG PICTURE

STORYTELLING · PATTERN RECOGNITION · PEOPLE · EXPERIENCE · DETAIL · THE BIG PICTURE

GETTING A FOOT IN THE DOOR.

GETTING A FOOT IN THE DOOR.

GETTING A FOOT IN THE DOOR.

I started in sales and sent my CV to event agencies tucked inside sparkly Christmas cards, asking for a chance. I used my annual leave to do work experience. I worked in basements with leaking windows, organised endless stationery cupboards, carried boxes, packed bags, moved furniture and cried in a lot of toilets.


Eventually, people let me organise things. Then they let me organise bigger things. And I kept going.

20+ YEARS LATER…

20+ YEARS LATER…

20+ YEARS LATER…

I've diverted conference guests through hotel kitchens after storms tore the roofs off ballrooms. Watched journalists sink into wet cement because the site they'd come to report on wasn't quite finished. I've managed celebrities, Olympians and royalty. Delivered experiences across four continents. Occasionally screamed into a pillow. Won awards.


I don't recommend a career in events. It's stressful, random and intense. And yet, I wouldn't want to do anything else.

I've diverted conference guests through hotel kitchens after storms tore the roofs off ballrooms. Watched journalists sink into wet cement because the site they'd come to report on wasn't quite finished. I've managed celebrities, Olympians and royalty. Delivered experiences across four continents. Occasionally screamed into a pillow. Won awards.


I don't recommend a career in events. It's stressful, random and intense. And yet, I wouldn't want to do anything else.

THE WORST EXPERIENCE?

500 SANTAS.

500 SANTAS.

500 SANTAS.

Managing 500 Santas across Australia remains difficult to beat.


Running Santa Claus school, delivering beards, belly fat and costumes to the Outback, firing 'bad Santas' (which is about as difficult as firing your own grandfather).


And then getting detained and shutting down an entire airport because the fake snow in my suitcase had been mistaken for explosives.


You do start questioning whether your commitment to event detail has gone slightly too far.

WHY IT MATTERS

WHY IT MATTERS

WHY IT MATTERS

For me, events have always been about more than a nice dinner for the sales team or putting a tech demo on a stage.

It’s the stories you can tell through an experience. The psychology behind how people feel, often without realising why. The tiny, considered details. Making everyone in a crowd feel seen. Building connections that feel organic rather than forced.

I’ve spent my career figuring out how to create those moments. And just as importantly, how to explain to a business why they matter, what they achieve and why they’re worth investing in.

And sometimes I even remember how to tie my shoes.

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