Ah, vendors. Or as you may know them– business partners, consultants, and external subject matter experts. Call them what you will, they are somewhat of a necessary evil in any profession, providing services, expertise, or an extra pair of hands when needed. Having managed a wide range of budgets in HR, I am used to bootstrapping projects, handling things myself with little help, and also utilizing various helpful vendors to assist with projects. There is a certain balance to maintain when using vendors, and moving too far one way or the other can be short-sighted. Too independent and you end up ignoring your own limitations and taking on too much. Too dependent and you can end up lacking the ability to think or act on your own. My approach has always been to use partners sparingly and to hold the ones that I do use to high standards. If I’m going to be giving you my money, you are going to be expected to provide a quality service, and that’s all there is to it.

Having spent the last few years in a non-profit operation (read as no HR budget); I’ve grown used to saying no to most phone and email solicitations from potential partners, refusing to take pointless face to face meetings. As a result, I found myself extremely uncomfortable and out of my element when I attended the national Society of Human Resource Management (SHRM) conference last month. Part of the annual conference, featuring a multitude of training meetings and guest speakers and attracting over 13,000 HR professionals, was a rather large vendor expo hall. I had reluctantly planned to visit the expo hall as I needed to put out bids for background checking work soon, which is required every three years, and also was asked to bring back information on what was new in wellness programs for one of my team.

It had been a few years since I last attended a large conference and, while I am no stranger to expo halls, standing among hundreds and hundreds of sales people felt a little daunting. The scale had changed in epic proportions, and simple signs, tables, and curtains had been traded out for towering displays of technological and structural marvels. It was like seeing Vegas for the first time again. Now, in a past life I sold software and had done my fair share of time pacing in ten by ten booths, trying to catch the eye of anyone who would want to talk about our products in exchange for a few inexpensive bobbles. Logo-ed keychain flashlights, pens and Frisbees, were distributed by the hundreds in exchange for a quick conversation, collection of a business card, or later, a scan of their conference badge. It was ironic that I stood in a similar expo hall feeling leery of walking the maze of aisles containing every conceived business that could possibly help attain my HR goals.

To get through the acres of displays, my approach was to treat the situation as I do when walking by the midway games at the state fair– ignore the barkers, don’t make eye contact, and just keep walking until you find the frog launching game that you can’t resist. The vendors that I did need to talk to were spread out among the masses, so I spent a lot of time dodging the cat calls and opening lines. No, I don’t need on-site banking services. Thanks, but we won’t be considering pet insurance this year. No, I don’t need vacation packages to Legoland for my employees. Who does that?

My approach, however, wasn’t working. I had lived in their shoes and felt bad saying no to many of them. Sure, I could just keep plodding through, searching for the vendors that I needed, but after a while, the allure of flashy post-it note holders and hipster tote bags was just too much. I thought I was above the glad-handing, but if everyone else was getting in on the cool stuff, why shouldn’t I? The question was how to get the goodies without having to converse with an annoying sales person or commit to a sales call at a later date and still feel good about myself. I had tried the non-profit tactic, saying, “Sorry, we’re a non-profit,” or, “I don’t really have a budget for such things”. This felt lousy, though, because telling a vendor that you are a non-profit can make you feel like the poor kid who never had any money when the ice cream truck came around. I had been that kid and hated it. The vendors just tend to look at you with pity, and say, “It’s ok. I worked for a non-profit once myself, here are a couple of pens.” Some can be relentless, though, citing non-profit discounts and arguing that you can’t afford not to use their service, making the quest for obtaining that nifty leather smart phone holder a herculean effort.

After 45 minutes of self-tortured angst, I resigned to simply take their stress balls and t-shirts and let them scan my badge, telling myself that I could feign interest in their products for the moment. Why not, when everyone else seemed to be doing it?  Sure, I felt bad leaving the expo hall with a bulging bag of trinkets, knowing that when all is said and done, I won’t really be returning their calls or reviewing the materials that will be sent en mass after the conference is over. The goodies will be proudly handed out to my grateful team and family, and no one but I will know the true, shameful cost of the loot. Later, I will feel like a schmuck as I cowardly dodge calls and delete emails.  To coin a much overused catchphrase; what happens in the expo hall stays in the expo hall.