Want to hear something weird? I enjoy speaking in public.
Like actually getting up in front of a crowd of people and talking about any number of topics for an hour or more.
I realize most people absolutely would rather get someone else's snot on their hand than give a speech, but not me. It's one of my most favorite things to do. Giving a speech, that is.
To be clear, I would never want to get someone else's snot on my hand. I have three kids, and I got enough of that when they were growing up. That, and other things.
Ideally, people give me money to give speeches, but here's another weird secret: I like it so much I'll do it for free.
I've given presentations on writing, marketing, entrepreneurship, and humor. I've given written speeches, impromptu presentations, wedding toasts, and eulogies. I even teach a public speaking class at a local college.
I get to do one of my favorite things by talking about one of my favorite things. It's like if Taylor Swift wrote a song about how much she likes being a billionaire and made a billion dollars from it.
(I made a Taylor Swift reference so the young people will think I'm cool. Which I ruined by saying "the young people.")
It's like a drug, in a way: If I don't get my fix of being the center of attention once a month, I go through withdrawal and crave any opportunity to give a speech. I'll stand up in crowded restaurants and start lecturing on why putting a fried egg on a cheeseburger is America's greatest contribution to the culinary arts.
Most people hate public speaking — they hate it enough that it's the number one fear for a lot of people — higher than snakes, spiders, sharks.
Of course, some people like snakes, spiders, and sharks, but they're weirdos who don't call their mothers on Mother's Day. Not like those of us who actually love public speaking, which is totally normal and not at all wackadoodle.
That doesn't mean I enjoy every speech I give. Some are downright terrifying, and I would rather crawl into a hole and pull it in after me.
You might think that it's the ones with audiences of several hundred people, but those are the ones I enjoy. I love speaking to hundreds of people at once. That's because there are so many people to keep track of, I never pay attention to who's in the audience. The room feels the emptiest when it's filled with people.
I look out, and there's a sea of blank faces. I don't recognize anyone, and I don't make eye contact. I just look at their foreheads — which is an old speaker's trick — and everyone thinks I'm making eye contact with them.
I'm not. I'm looking at that zit that Linda from HR is sprouting on her head and is trying to hide with makeup. It's not working, Linda; we can all see it.
No, the speeches I hate are the ones with very small audiences. Anything under ten people, and I'm terrified. That's because I can see everyone.
Ev. Ery. One.
I see their faces, I see their furrowed brows and wrinkled noses. I see their judgment, annoyance, and boredom. I see them grimace when one of my jokes falls flat. And I see them texting their friends: "This guy is terrible. Who hired this jerk? What do you mean, I did?"
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| This is from 2012. I still have that shirt. |
"You're snoring again. Come on, you're embarrassing me, Dad."
Once, I gave a speech at a conference to five people right after lunch, and I had never wished more than that moment to be eaten by a shark wearing a snake as a necktie.
When speaking at a conference, you want to go as early in the morning as possible, because everyone is awake. They had their coffee and donuts, and they're excited to be there.
They're ready to hear presentations about "synergy" and "disrupting the paradigm. They're looking forward to seeing the guy who used his work laptop to look at adult entertainment the night before and forgot to close his browser before his presentation started.
The post-lunch speaking slot is terrible because lunch is always something stuffed with carbs and cheese, and the organizer turns the room temperature up to the mid-70s, and everyone is nodding off before you even start. The people who were thrilled to be there at 8:00 are now stretched out in the back rows with sleep masks and CPAP machines.
It's even worse than being the last speaker of the day when everyone is excited to go to the post-conference happy hour. At least then, people are wide awake because they're looking at their watches every two minutes and wondering if it would be rude to race to the bar for a little pre-game.
You go ahead, I'm going back up to my room after this.
I hate being around people.
Photo credit: 2nd photo - New Media Expo (Flickr, Creative Commons 2.0)
My new humor novel, Mackinac Island Nation, is finished and available from 4 Horsemen Publications. You can get the ebook and print versions here.