Earlier this week, I came to a dramatic conclusion, perhaps one of Darwinian proportions. While attending a conference in Munich, it struck me that mankind is divided into two rather different, distinct spheres that become most pronounced when humans gather in an enclosed airless space and are given a name badge, lots of free beverages, free goodies from corporate sponsors and, most telling of all, a wireless microphone and the freedom to pontificate at length rather than ask a simple question as requested by the moderator.

I’ve yet to find an official label for these groups but for the sake of illustration I’ll call one “homo conferencus” and the other “homo uninterestus”.

“Homo conferencus” is very easy to spot. In fact, a keen observer can spot both the male and female varieties miles away from their natural habitats (ballrooms of Marriott hotels, conference rooms of Hiltons and grand municipal convention facilities) because they might already have various pre-conference paraphernalia stuck to their garments and stuck to their bags.

On arrival at their destination, the observer might notice a certain speed and purpose of stride as HC races through the airport terminal to meet the courtesy bus to the event and a small little skip of joy might be detected, if examined closely enough. This will occur when HC spots the laminated board with the event’s logo on the front. At this point, HC might quicken his or her pace to a worrying sprint so he or she can ensure one of the first seats on the minibus.

The journey to the venue is a high point and HC will instantly seek the safety of a front seat in order to greet other conference attendees and potentially hook up with other HCs. It’s important to note that HCs will also attempt to find comfort in numbers. At the venue, HC might do a little jig as he or she does a fast shuffle to the registration. This is perhaps one of the most exciting points of HC’s existence because it marks the official start of an important period of hoarding and identity building.

A sweaty brow might be spotted when a conference organiser has trouble finding HC’s pre-registration material but this moment of panic will be replaced by giddy hysteria when the photo card is found and a lanyard is pulled from beneath the counter, the card is inserted into an acetate sleeve and the lanyard is handed over.

In some cases, the observer might want to ensure they’re packing a tranquiliser dart as lanyards emblazoned with the event’s logo and featuring a very fancy clip can send the most evolved “homo erectisuses” into a wild frenzy of glee. For some, this is such an important moment that the conference badge is treated like a medal and many HCs will lean across the registration desk to have the identity lanyard placed over their head as if they’ve been knighted and inducted into some rare, medieval order.

Leaning into the registration team’s place allows HCs to see if there’ll be any more goodies given out as part of the registration programme. A quick scan will reveal whether this will be a mid-level event or the conference to end all conferences. For HC, confirmation of the latter comes if there’s a goodie bag stuffed with everything he or she might need in case stationery cupboards ceased to exist or they had to function from the road for the rest of their lives. HC knows that the conference organiser knows it’s essential to offer up this sense of security which is why there’s an expectation there’ll be a nylon laptop bag given out with a big logo on the lower right-hand side of the front pocket and swingy, jangly tag hanging off the shoulder strap to advertise that HC “was there in January 2009”.

It’s all downhill for the next few hours as there’ll be no additional giveaways until the break-out session and this means it’s important to secure a seat close to an aisle at the centre of the conference room. This fulfils two functions: first it allows HC to make a hasty escape for the pastry and coffee tables during the morning break; the position at the centre of the room also gives him or her a good shot at getting the microphone when the attendants come round during the Q&A session. Getting first grab at the mike for HCs will give them potential pulling power throughout the rest of the conference and might ensure their stand-up cocktail table is surrounded by new friends during the coffee break.

And “homo uninterestus”? Where’s he or she in the scrum of global conference life? While perhaps not quite as easy to spot, they’re the ones that tend to have their heads down thumbing away furiously on their BlackBerrys and Nokias and then look up with a sense of bewilderment when something of note is muttered from the podium. And why the lack of interest? Why the massive gulf between HC and HU? In part because the conference model is broken and needs a rethink. Next week, Fast Lane conjures up a dream conference and lists all the basics required to make them more stimulating, engaging and generally fun.

Tyler Brûlé is editor-in-chief of Monocle.
Tyler.brule@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/brule