First person: The wrong lunch

Sometimes, I drive my wife crazy. Our dentist is a three-minute walk from our building. Yet, I leave my condo about 30 minutes before the appointment. The elevators might stop working, the power might go out, I might twist my ankle on the way, the appointment before me might not show up. You name it, I have the excuse. I have allegrophobia — a fear of being late.

For years, I thought this was why I arrived hours before my presentations. I don’t want to alarm you about my mental sanity, but if my talk were scheduled for 2 p.m., I’d show up around 10 a.m.

After my 20th visit to the hotel gift shop or a 15th cup of coffee, people might start to think something was a bit off about me. It does get pretty annoying.

That’s not the half of it.

A few years back, I learned about prosopagnosia, or face blindness. It’s a neurological disorder that makes it difficult to recognize faces. I decided to test myself, and scored 27%. Turns out, I need to see a face 10 to 15 times before I can remember it, along with the person’s name.

It hit me — that’s why I always felt better getting to talks early. If I am the first one in the room, I can identify people who come over to say hi by their voice. It works, even if I don’t remember their face.

Whereas my phobia of being late drove me to arrive at the venue only half an hour early, trying to compensate for my prosopagnosia got me there two or three hours too early.

Mr. Otar goes to Washington

Well before this self-diagnosis, I was invited to speak at the Investment Management Consultants Association’s (IMCA) annual conference, in Washington, D.C. My wife and I arrived there early morning on the day before my presentation.

We drove our rental car to the hotel where the conference was being held. We got our nametags — mine had a huge speaker ribbon attached to it, similar to what prized cows at the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair are adorned with.

Too early to check into our room, we walked around the National Mall. At noon, we returned to the hotel and joined the group lunch.

That evening, we went back to the same dining hall and had a great dinner. One thing was interesting though: people at our table did not look like the usual joyful, ready-to-burst-into-laughter investment advisors. They were introverted, serious-looking people. I had to trim back my sense of humour. Way back.

The next morning, we went downstairs for breakfast. After a few bites, one of the serious people at our table pointed at my badge and said, “I don’t see your name on the speakers list. What time are you scheduled for?”

I looked around and realized we had been eating in the company of regional Oracle software developers, in the hall next to the IMCA event. Rita and I glanced at each other, dashed to the next hall, and joined the actual IMCA breakfast. I met a cheerful guy at our table, Michael, a top consultant for a large investment house. His voice was easy to memorize.

After my talk later that day, Michael asked a few questions. I recognized his voice more clearly than his face.

A few months later, I received a phone call. Wow, the caller ID showed the name of an insurance company that I admired. As soon as he said hello, I knew it was Michael.

After the IMCA conference, he had decided to switch from investments to insurance and had landed a vice-president role. He asked me if I was interested in going on the road with him.

We made close to 70 presentations together. For the first dozen times, I made sure to arrive at the venue well before he did. To be honest, it took me that long to learn his face. What an amazing journey it was.