How to Keep Your Audience’s Attention

Clare had always been quiet. Her parents told her that she didn’t speak until she was three years old, and then only in response to direct questions. Her sisters were the chatterboxes. She was content to observe, nodding when she agreed with them or was asked her opinion.

 

          Even as a child, Clare found it hard to speak up. Her hands clenched into tight fists any time she was called upon to speak, her fingernails leaving gashes in her palms. One of her earliest memories was of hiding in the fort she’d built in the backyard, hopeful that the leafy branches would make her invisible to the visitors her parents invited over to the house. In school, she’d duck her head behind a textbook and slouch as low in her seat as possible in the hope that the teacher wouldn’t notice her.

 

          Her aversion to standing out didn’t go away when she became an adult. She loathed meetings where she was called on to answer questions, and the thought of presenting to a group made her queasy. It didn’t matter if her audience was composed of familiar, friendly faces or strangers. It didn’t matter if she was speaking to three people or thirty. She’d feel rivulets of sweat coursing down her back, her throat would tighten, and she’d have to resist the urge to flee.

 

           She resolved to become more assertive after hearing someone she had a crush on describe her as behaving like a mouse, skulking in the shadows and coming out when no one was looking. It dovetailed with classmates calling her a scaredy-cat and a chicken. The descriptions stung.

 

          Clare systematically set about changing her life. First, she went online to research what she wanted to change and what she would look like and feel like when she achieved the change. Then she studied different paths she could take to get there. Finally, she visualized the steps she’d need to take to achieve a life out of the shadows. She set a deadline of three years to complete the transition.

 

          She joined Toastmasters, faithfully attending every weekly meeting, preparing speeches and practicing her delivery in front of a mirror. She went so far as to record herself. She even invited her cat to provide feedback. He did not offer any response, positive or negative. She enrolled in a six-week intensive Dale Carnegie leadership course, going so far as to invite her boyfriend to her graduation.

 

          At work, she began to volunteer whenever there was a call for presentations from the department where she worked. Clare 2.0, her name for the new and improved Clare, took many hours to prepare the first presentation. She started with twenty-five pages of text and reduced it to bulleted lists. As she rehearsed, she further shortened the text, eventually trimming her presentation to within 30 seconds of the prescribed time availability. After many practice rounds, she needed only a few words to jog her memory.

 

          Her first test came when her manager asked her to do a PowerPoint presentation on a new initiative being unveiled throughout the health authority. “I’ll provide the high-level overview. It’ll be your job to provide the nuts and bolts on how the whole thing will work.”

 

          Although very nervous, Clare used the deep-breathing techniques she’d been taught. She laid out the next day’s work clothes the evening before so that she wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear the next morning. She had timed her presentation to within one minute of the time she’d been allocated. Her delivery was so smooth that Clare won rave reviews from her colleagues, who commented on what they perceived to be her newfound skills at speaking off the cuff. Clare was secretly delighted with their response. She did not feel the need to tell them that she’d memorized the content of the presentation and practiced the delivery and timing.

 

           Her big moment came when she was asked to help the executive director roll out his business strategy. She worked alongside him on his opening, creating a slide deck to describe the deliverables and timelines.

 

           That morning, she took extra care with her appearance, sweeping her hair into a stylish up do and wearing mascara to highlight her eyes. Her suit was conservative, a navy wool blazer with a white blouse, matching pants and kitten heels. She grabbed her briefcase and left for work. Prior to joining the executive director at the front of the room, she checked to make sure her mascara was intact. She checked to make sure no food was stuck between her teeth. She scrutinized her mouth to confirm she did not have a coffee ring above her upper lips. She applied her lipstick, patiently waiting for it to dry. She used the facilities one last time, chanting reassuring messages and nodding affirmations to herself while she washed her hands.

 

           About 100 members of her division sat in the auditorium looking up at the two people on stage. She listened to the executive director while he provided a high-level overview. Then he turned the floor over to her. It was make or break time. She could feel all eyes upon her. This was her moment to shine. Even she was surprised that all eyes remained on her as she described the details of the plan. There were no side conversations, no suddenly silenced phone rings, and no one appeared to be falling asleep. Satisfied, she finished the presentation and took her place at the side of the stage. She watched as people exited the room. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction. After her stellar performance, she was confident no one would ever again describe her as mousy.

 

           She sailed into the washroom, glanced at herself in the mirror, and came to an abrupt stop. Her smile was replaced with an expression of horror. Somehow, she didn’t know how, her white shirt was bunched up and caught in her pants’ zipper. The front shirttails stood at a right angle to the dark pants.

 

           Clare wished someone had told her about the errant shirttails before she went on stage. Then Clare 2.0 jumped in to dispel her fears. She shrugged because the moment for action had passed and there was nothing she could do about it now. She tucked her shirt into the waistband of the pants and buttoned her jacket. She double-checked her appearance in the mirror.

 

           She smiled wryly. “At least, I got everyone’s attention. They couldn’t take their eyes off me.” She smiled at her reflection and left the washroom, knowing they would always remember her.