Anybody who attended the state Democratic convention in Worcester last weekend — an event that stretched long into Saturday night — was absolutely dumbfounded by how it had gotten so far out of control. (The late hour prevented the convention from even determining a nominee for treasurer.) After all, aren’t state conventions carefully scripted, just like national political conventions?

As it turns out, the event’s careful scripting was the source of the trouble, according to Rick Rendon, senior partner of the Rendon Group, which produced the state convention. As evidence, Rendon sent the Phoenix the script, which provided distinct blocks of time for each speaker and event. Thirty minutes were allotted, between 2:17 and 2:47 p.m., for voting on the third ballot for governor. The gubernatorial nominee was slated to speak at 2:58 p.m. — not 8:14 p.m., when Treasurer Shannon O’Brien’s formal acceptance of the gubernatorial nomination actually took place. And, on paper at least, the convention was supposed to have ended 7:35. To ensure efficiency, Rendon even conducted two sets of convention rehearsals with the candidates present.

Alas, reality didn’t stick to the script. Unlike national conventions, where voting is now determined in advance, the outcome of last weekend’s convention wasn’t settled before it took place. "[H]ere it is truly ‘up for grabs’ and as we know that ‘voting’ certainly cannot be choreographed," says Rendon in an e-mail.

One time-saving measure later proposed by disgruntled delegates would have candidates for lesser offices deliver their addresses while the vote is taken for governor. But Rendon says this wouldn’t be possible. "We couldn’t do that because the delegates would be interrupted in their voting and challenges would come forth," he says. "Case in point, we had scripted in ‘music to vote by,’ but once we started to play the music delegates complained about the noise so we cut it out."

In addition, Rendon points out, the Massachusetts state convention — with its preponderance of delegates added on for diversity and other concerns — is the largest in the nation. Plus, a new rule that allows alternate delegates to step in and participate while others are voting further complicated the process.

Finally, he says, some of the grumbling might be chalked up to changes in society over the last 20 years. Call it the fast-food effect. When Gerry D’Amico defeated Evelyn Murphy in a convention fight for lieutenant governor in 1986, the battle persisted through five ballots and seven hours — and the delegates stayed through it all. Now, he says, everybody wants instant gratification. By late afternoon, delegates were pouring out of Worcester. The toll booths at the Mass Pike were jammed with cars exiting the convention by 6 p.m., according to eyewitnesses.

It’s hard to determine which of Rendon’s points are mere spin and which are real. There’s no question that the five-person contest for governor was bound to be time-consuming. One culprit, to be sure, is the 15 percent rule, which requires a candidate to garner 15 percent of the convention delegates just to get on the ballot. In New York — not a particularly progressive state when it comes to ballot access — candidates need 25 percent of convention delegates to ensure automatic placement on the ballot for statewide office. If they don’t get their 25 percent, they can get on the ballot by collecting 15,000 signatures — not a particularly high number in a state with 18 million residents. This allowed former secretary of housing and urban development Andrew Cuomo, a Democratic gubernatorial hopeful, to blow off the New York state convention altogether several weeks ago. By contrast, Massachusetts, which is home to six million people, requires both 15 percent of the convention delegates and 10,000 signatures for a spot on the ballot. Massachusetts may not want to go as far as New York in minimizing its convention, but some reform of the 15 percent rule is surely in order.