Why I built the
Assembly Exchange.

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Firstly, thank you for taking the time to read this.

Whether you’ve landed here because we’ve worked together before, someone pointed you in my direction, or you’re simply curious about The Assembly Exchange, I genuinely appreciate it.

Over the last few months, I’ve been asked a question more times than I can count.

“Why did you start The Assembly Exchange?”

The obvious answer would be that I wanted to build my own business, but if I’m honest, that’s only part of the story.

The real reason is much simpler than that.

Over the last decade I’ve been lucky enough to work alongside some brilliant technology companies and, more importantly, some brilliant people. I’ve watched executive engagement create partnerships that simply wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

I’ve seen conversations over dinner become strategic customers, long-term relationships, new partnerships, acquisitions, and occasionally, friendships.

It’s one of the reasons I love this industry.

But somewhere along the way, I also found myself asking the same question over and over.

Who is this really for?

Because when I looked around, something didn’t sit right with me.

I’ve sat in enough planning meetings over the years to know just how much work goes into making one programme happen. Marketing has often spent weeks, sometimes months, fighting internally for budget.

Sales has carefully agreed which accounts matter most and where they believe the genuine opportunities exist. Leadership has backed the investment because they believe bringing the right people together can genuinely move the business forward.

By the time the event finally arrives, everyone involved has played their part.

The conversations happen. New relationships are formed. People leave feeling positive.

Then, before the client has had a chance to catch their breath, LinkedIn fills up with the agency celebrating themselves.

“Look what WE delivered.”

“Another fantastic event by OUR team.”

“Look who WE brought together.”

Every time I saw it, I found myself thinking exactly the same thing.

Haven’t we got this the wrong way round?

Because surely the story belongs to the client. They’re the ones who invested in it. They’re the ones building the relationships. They’re the ones taking the commercial risk.

So why shouldn’t they be the ones standing in the spotlight?

The funny thing is, I’d been talking about this for years without ever really realising it. Whenever someone asked me what good executive engagement looked like, I’d always end up describing the same thing.

The agency should work incredibly closely with its client. It should challenge them, support them, and quietly make everything happen behind the scenes. But when the programme is over, the recognition should belong to the people who trusted us with it in the first place.

Eventually, one afternoon, I realised that philosophy deserved a name.

Invisible by Design.

It’s funny really, because the more I thought about those three words, the more I realised they summed up the kind of company I’d always wanted to build.

Not invisible to our clients.

The best partnerships I’ve ever been part of have been incredibly collaborative. Honest conversations, healthy debate, a shared ambition to make something genuinely successful. That’s the bit I love.

What I mean is invisible everywhere else.

If we’ve done our job properly, people shouldn’t be talking about us after a programme. They should be talking about YOU. The client. Your brand. Your people. The conversations you started. The relationships you’ve built.

That’s success in my eyes.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love seeing great work celebrated. If a client wants to share something we’ve achieved together, I’ll happily celebrate alongside them.

But I never want that to become an expectation. The recognition should always belong to the people who invested in the idea, backed it internally and trusted us to help bring it to life.

What are clients really investing in?

When I started thinking about The Assembly Exchange, I knew I didn’t want to build a business that simply organised executive dinners. Anyone can book a venue, organise a menu and send invitations.

That’s not what clients are investing in.

• They’re investing in trust.
• They’re investing in access.
• They’re investing in conversations that would never have happened otherwise.
• They’re investing in the hope that one introduction, one relationship or one evening might quietly change the trajectory of an account.

That’s always been the exciting bit for me.

I’d choose refining a guest list over choosing table decorations every single time. One meaningful conversation has always been worth more to me than twenty average ones.

My ADHD may have had some influence on this particular business philosophy! All jokes aside, it should never be about “bums on seats.” It should always be about creating the right environment for something valuable to happen.

We’ll always start with the commercial objective first, not the event itself. We’ll want to understand which accounts matter, who you’re trying to reach and, most importantly, why.

If we can’t clearly answer those questions together, then we’re probably not ready to send an invitation.

Everything else flows from there.

Doing exactly what we say we’ll do

I also hope we’ll become known for something else, which is doing exactly what we say we’ll do.

Real pioneering stuff, I know.

If we commit to delivering something, I want our clients to know they can stop worrying about it. They shouldn’t have to chase it, or have to acquire a second job managing the agency.

That’s trust.

Not something you put in your “About Us” section on your website. Something you earn by delivering what you say.

I don’t know exactly where The Assembly Exchange will be in five years’ time, but I do know that in rooms full of brilliant minds discussing the future of technology, the human experience around the table will still matter.

So until AI fully takes over, I fancy our chances.

Finally, if you’ve read this far, I’ve either written something worth reading (three cheers to the humans), or you’re having a suspiciously quiet day at work.

Either way, to quote my wife who too often refers to me as a ‘delusional optimist’, I have already convinced myself that it’s the former.

Hopefully our paths cross somewhere along the way and if they do,
you’ll already know what we’re about.