Every conference planner has a list… and a list of their lists. There are the things that need to get done today, the things that need to get done tomorrow, and the things that haven’t even made it to a list yet but somehow haunt your dreams at 2 a.m. (usually involving room sets or shipping deadlines).

If you manage more than one conference — which, let’s face it, most of us do — keeping everything straight can be like juggling flaming swords while riding a unicycle. On a moving sidewalk. Uphill. That’s why spreadsheets have become my ride-or-die. My coping mechanism. My security blanket in Excel form.

Each of my conferences has its own designated color — one is teal, another is coral, and my largest event proudly sports an intimidating shade of red (appropriate, given the stress level it induces). Everything that relates to a specific conference is color-coded: tasks, meetings, email folders, and even my to-do list. One glance at my screen and I can tell which conference I’m tackling and how many times I’ll need to switch gears throughout the day. It’s like a traffic light system for my sanity.

I even color-code my Outlook calendar. If the meeting block is green, I know it’s for one conference. If it’s blue, it’s another. If it’s gray… that’s my one brave attempt at “focus time” that will inevitably get booked over anyway. “Work smarter, not harder” is my motto — though, to be honest, sometimes I spend more time formatting my spreadsheet than actually completing the task. But hey, at least it’s beautiful.

Spreadsheets are the unsung heroes of conference planning. They’re how I keep every program session organized — day, time, room, speaker, capacity — because if I don’t, something will end up double-booked, and I’ll be the proud owner of a 50-person room with 300 attendees. Then there’s food and beverage. Ah, the F&B minimum — the line item that keeps planners awake at night. My F&B tracking spreadsheet is practically an art form: columns for meal functions, per-person costs, service fees, taxes, and a running total that tells me exactly how close I am to hitting (or overshooting) that contractual minimum.

It’s not glamorous, but it’s the kind of data that can make or break a budget. And let’s be honest: budgets have a way of getting away from you faster than attendees at a 7 a.m. breakout session. So yes — spreadsheets are how I stay ahead of the chaos. They help me keep every dollar, meal count, and room set under control.

I’ll admit, my obsession has occasionally spilled into my personal life. When I moved a few years ago, I color-coded my moving boxes by room — kitchen = yellow, bedroom = blue, office = purple. My mom walked in, took one look around, and asked if I was planning a small convention or just moving houses. Honestly, a little of both.

That’s when I realized maybe it’s good to occasionally take a step back and make sure the system is actually helping — not just feeding my inner spreadsheet gremlin. Because as much as I love a perfectly formatted Excel file, it’s no substitute for good judgment and a solid night’s sleep.

So yes, I confess: I’m a spreadsheet addict. But in the world of conference planning — where details multiply faster than coffee orders at 6 a.m. — a little organization addiction isn’t the worst vice to have.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to update my “Spreadsheets To Update” spreadsheet.

— The Anonymous Planner