The Two Most Important Questions to Ask Every Attendee (and No, It’s Not Their T-Shirt Size)

Jun 23

Published: June 2026

I rarely gripe at the events I attend, because my producer hat will be forever superglued to my head, and I'll always be thinking how I'd run it differently. However, more often than not, I see events cutting corners on the two most crucial things that drastically impact attendee experience…

Dietary restrictions and accessibility needs.

I’m not talking about a a tiny little checkbox buried at the bottom of a registration form, the kind that gets ignored because the caterer sends over an exciting fixed menu. I mean actually asking, actually reading the answers, and actually doing something about them. The difference between the two approaches isn’t just operational. It’s the difference between an event that people remember because something went wrong for them, and one they remember because they felt taken care of.

There truly is a magic in understanding your attendee pool so well that when they arrive, they don't have to think twice and leave happy. But what I'm seeing from many events I attend, is that knowledge & attention to detail is often ignored because frankly, it's easier. It’s easier to pick menus that appeal to the masses. It's easier to pick the cool venue because, well, most people in wheelchairs just aren't thought about.

There is nothing worse than showing up to an event and the venue doesn't have an elevator or it's standing room only, or all of the food being served you can't eat, so you leave hangry when everyone else's tummies are full.

I, myself, always eat before an event or I shove some snacks in my bag because 1) I live in Texas and 2) I have a pepper allergy. No matter what, there will always be spice on the menu. And I have to constantly reassure people “doesn't matter if it isn't spicy, the seed will kill me".

But thing is, I won't say anything unless I'm asked because I never want to be a burden.

Your Attendees Will Not Tell You Unless You Ask

Here’s the thing about dietary restrictions and accessibility needs: most people have learned, through years of being an afterthought, not to expect accommodation. They pre-eat before events. They scope out the venue photos in advance to see if there’s a ramp. They quietly push a plate of food aside and make do. They don’t fill in the blank box because they’ve filled it in before and nothing happened.

This means that when you host an event and don’t ask, you’re not getting away with it. You’re just receiving silence where information used to be, and assuming the silence means everything is fine. It doesn’t. It means your attendees have given up on you before you’ve even started.

The ask itself is the first signal. When a registration form has a real, open-ended question about dietary restrictions, it communicates that someone on the other end is going to read it. When it asks about accessibility needs, it tells an attendee with a mobility aid or a sensory sensitivity that they weren’t an afterthought in the planning process. The question is a promise. The follow-through is where you prove you meant it.

What “Dietary Restrictions” Actually Covers

People hear “dietary restrictions” and think: one vegetarian, maybe a gluten-free person, easy. But the real range is wide. Celiac disease versus a gluten preference is a clinical distinction that matters enormously at a buffet line. A peanut allergy is life-threatening. Kosher and halal dietary laws aren’t preferences; they’re religious observances, and accommodating them (or failing to) sends a message about who the event was designed for.

And then there’s the simpler end of the spectrum: someone who just doesn’t eat red meat, or is trying a new way of eating, or has a texture sensitivity that makes certain foods genuinely difficult. None of these require a special catering line. They just require knowing in advance.

The question I always recommend is open-ended: “Do you have any dietary restrictions or food allergies we should know about?” Not a checklist of options. Those are limiting by design, and they inevitably leave out the exact combination one of your attendees has. An open field lets people tell you what they actually need, in their own words, with whatever level of detail they choose to give you.

A great example of why an open-ended question is crucial. We had an attendee at Sponsor Games 2026 who shared not a regular food allergy, but that they had a latex allergy. So all food prep & serving was easily shifted to plastic gloves.

The earlier you have this information, the better your vendors can prepare, source alternatives, adjust menus, or set up labels on buffets. A great caterer will not blink an eye. A caterer who pushes back on accommodations is a caterer you’ll have to manage closely onsite, which is a conversation worth having before you sign the contract.

What “Accessibility” Actually Covers

Accessibility is one of those words that gets used as a synonym for wheelchair access, and while that’s part of it, it’s only part of it. When I’m scouting a venue for a client, I’m thinking about the full physical journey: where does someone park, how far is the walk to the entrance, are there stairs between sessions, what does the lighting look like during the main programming, how loud is the music or echoes during networking, is there a private space if a mom is a breastfeeding. These aren’t just questions for attendees with visible disabilities. They matter for anyone managing a chronic condition, a recent injury, a sensory processing difference, or a pregnancy.

A question about accessibility needs on a registration form might surface things like:

A need for seating near an exit for someone with anxiety or a medical condition
A request for captioning or ASL interpretation during sessions
A quiet room for someone who needs to decompress between activities
A heads-up that someone will need extra time moving between spaces
A request for a lactation room

Some of these you can solve for at almost any venue. Some will require coordination with your venue contact. Some might genuinely require you to reconsider a space that seemed perfect on paper. Better to know before you’ve signed the contract than to be problem-solving onsite at 8 AM with a room full of attendees.

The Logistics of Actually Using the Information

Collecting the data is step one. Using it is where most events fall down.

Build a system before registration opens. Decide where the responses live (a shared spreadsheet your whole production team can see is fine), who reviews them (someone with actual authority to act on what they find), and what the response protocol is. If someone notes a severe nut allergy, does someone from your team confirm receipt? It takes thirty seconds to send a message that says we’ve noted their allergy and confirmed with the caterer — and it will mean the world to the person who receives it.

(seriously, do this.)

For accessibility requests, the follow-up is often a conversation. Someone might write in their registration form that they use a wheelchair, and you need to confirm with them — not assume — what support they’d like. Do they want to be pre-positioned at an accessible table before doors open? Do they want to know the layout in advance so they can plan their route between sessions? Asking is not an imposition. It’s respect.

On the day of the event, all of this information should be reshared in your team briefing. Your registration desk should know which attendees have flagged needs. Your caterer should have clearly labeled food at every station. Your venue contact should know if you’ve got attendees who need specific accommodations and what they are. None of this is complicated. It just requires intention.

Why This Is a Business Decision, Not Just a Kindness

Creators who are considering their first in-person event sometimes treat these questions as nice-to-haves, the kind of operational detail they’ll figure out closer to the date. Here’s the reframe: dietary and accessibility information is risk management.

A food allergy incident at your event is a liability, a potential medical emergency, and at minimum a very public story about what your event failed to prevent. An attendee who couldn’t navigate your venue or couldn’t eat anything served is an attendee who will not come back, and may tell others why. In the age of post-event Twitter threads and community Slack channels, the stories people tell about your event travel further than your marketing ever will.

On the other side of that ledger: an attendee who gets a message before your event confirming that their dietary restriction has been handled, or who arrives to find clear signage and labeled food and a registration team that knows their name—that person becomes a story too. A good one. The kind that fills your next event without you having to try very hard.

Contingency is important here too

No matter how much you prepare for dietary and accessibility, something will go wrong. The only elevator may break, the caterer might forget alternate meals. Having contingency in place is the crucial so that attendees are still taken care of. You never want to apologize for trying to accommodate.

A few contingencies to consider:

Venue contracts — require an onsite solution for broken elevators or a partial refund if a solution cannot be provided. Move all main programming to accessible levels (I personally design multiple floor layouts for this exact reason)
Food — add a 10% contingency budget for food so if you have to purchase extra food due to caterer error you can. This happened to us at Sponsor Games 2026. Our caterer blatently ignored allergies, so we sent the attendee Apple Cash to buy dinner after the welcome party.

Two Fields on a Form, Infinite Returns

When I produce an event for a creator client, these two questions go into the registration form on day one—not as an afterthought, not as a courtesy. They go in because I know that the event doesn’t start when doors open. It starts the moment someone registers, and the information they share in that registration is their first act of trust.

What you do with that trust; whether you read it, act on it, follow up, and show up onsite having done the work, is what separates an event that people describe as “well-organized” from one they describe as “a place where I actually felt like I was supposed to be there.”

The questions are easy.

Remembering to ask them, every time, for every attendee…that’s the discipline. And it’s one of the simplest ways to prove that your event was built for the people in the room, not just for the people who organized it.