Fri 14 Aug

The Awards Night Is the Riskiest Room in Your Events Year

Half the room is about to lose, everyone's been drinking for two hours, and it all happens once. The awards night deserves more planning than it gets.

The Awards Night Is the Riskiest Room in Your Events Year

An awards dinner is harder than a conference and gets a fraction of the planning attention. The audience has been drinking, half of them are about to lose, the running order is set by envelopes rather than a run sheet, and everything happens once with no second day to recover in. Essential Talent is a New Zealand speaker bureau, and November and December are when we field the most anxious calls of the year.

Why is an awards night harder than a conference?

Because the room is emotional, not attentive. At a conference, people arrive to learn and the failure mode is boredom. At an awards night, people arrive with hope, and the failure mode is humiliation, resentment or a story that circulates on Monday.

Three specific things make it harder. Alcohol has been served for two hours before the formal programme starts. Most of the audience will not win, and they are sitting at tables with the people who did. And the timing is genuinely unpredictable, because acceptance speeches expand and nobody can be cut off mid-thanks without it looking brutal.

Add the fact that these events almost always run in a single evening in late November or early December, when every venue, every MC and every entertainer in the country is committed, and you have a format with a high degree of difficulty and a small margin for error.

Is a comedian a safe choice for a work function?

Yes, if they work corporate rooms regularly and you brief them properly. No, if you have booked a club act on the strength of a set you saw on a Friday night and assumed it transfers.

Club comedy and corporate comedy are different jobs. A club audience chose to be there, paid for a ticket, and consented to being challenged. A work function audience did not choose the room, is sitting with their manager, and includes people at every level of an organisation with different tolerances for the same joke.

Experienced corporate comedians know this and calibrate for it without losing their edge. New Zealand has a deep bench here: Jeremy Corbett, Michèle A'Court, Brendhan Lovegrove, Tarun Mohanbhai, Raybon Kan and Ginette McDonald have all spent years in front of corporate audiences and know exactly where the line sits in a room like yours.

The question to ask any comedian you are considering is not whether they are funny. It is how many corporate functions they did last year, and whether they will take material notes from you. A professional says yes without hesitating. Be cautious of anyone who treats a brief as interference.

What should you put in the brief?

Everything you would be embarrassed to have raised on stage, plus the things that would land badly for reasons an outsider could not guess.

Include:

  1. Redundancies, restructures or a bad year. If people have lost jobs this year, the comedian needs to know before they write, not after they have opened with a joke about hiring.

  2. Names that carry weight. Who is universally liked, who is new, who is leaving, who is unwell. Also who genuinely enjoys being teased and who does not.

  3. The industry landmines. Every sector has a topic that is funny externally and raw internally. A regulatory decision, a competitor, a product failure, a court case.

  4. Your composition. Age range, seniority mix, whether partners are attending, whether clients or sponsors are in the room. A function with clients present is a different set.

  5. Explicit boundaries. Say plainly what is off the table. Comedians are used to this and it does not blunt the act. It focuses it.

  6. What happened this year that was genuinely funny. The best corporate comedy is specific to the organisation. Give them the material and they will use it.

The brief conversation is worth twenty minutes on a call rather than an email. Things come out in conversation that nobody writes down.

Should the comedian roast your leadership team?

Only with consent, only upwards, and only if your culture actually has the stomach for it. Roast material aimed at the chief executive by prior arrangement can be excellent and often lands as a genuine signal of confidence. The same material aimed at a middle manager who did not know it was coming is a workplace incident with a microphone.

The rule that works: punch up, never down, and get sign-off from anyone named. That means the individual, not their manager, and it means them having heard the actual line rather than the general idea.

Be honest about your organisation rather than aspirational. Some workplaces genuinely enjoy this and some describe themselves as relaxed while operating on a hierarchy that makes public teasing very uncomfortable. If you are not sure which yours is, that uncertainty is your answer. Ask the comedian for observational material about the industry instead. It is safer and it is often funnier.

How do you keep an awards night on time?

By deciding what gets cut before you need to cut it, and by giving your MC the authority to do it. Awards nights run long for structural reasons: category presenters ad lib, winners thank people, and there is no natural mechanism for stopping either.

Practical measures that work:

  • Cap acceptance speeches and say so from the stage early. Sixty or ninety seconds, announced in the opening, applied consistently from the first award. It only feels harsh if it is applied to the third winner and not the first.

  • Group the minor categories. Announce three or four together with a single walk-up rather than a full cycle each.

  • Put the comedy set before the awards, not after. A set that follows two hours of speeches has to lift a tired room. A set that opens the formal programme sets the tone and warms the audience for the MC.

  • Decide the sacrificial item in advance. There is always something on the run sheet you can lose at 9:40pm. Know what it is now.

Your MC is the person executing all of this live, which is an argument for booking someone who does it regularly rather than assigning it internally. It is very hard to hold a senior colleague to ninety seconds when you have to work with them on Monday.