Kermit and the Conference of Gloom

The other day I attended a conference which was, to be frank, my kind of conference.

You see, unlike many other conferences I have attended, there was no boring 1.5 hour monologue by some boooring (yes, albeit very clever) academic, waffling on ad nauseum about his or her particular bent and expecting us poor, pathetic, ignorant lay people to be similarly enchanted.

No, in stark contrast, this most recent conference was comprised of short, sharp spurts of information, delivered in neatly packaged twenty minute lots and including plenty of activities to keep us engaged and occupied.

After the conference, I commented to a colleague about my comparative enjoyment of this kind of forum to the dry ones I had previously experienced.

“So you don‘t really like the ‘adult learning model’, then?” he asked politely.
“No,” I replied honestly, “give me the ‘Sesame Street model’ any day. Short snippets of info and fun and not a wordy powerpoint presentation in sight!”

He smiled politely, no doubt ‘noting to self’ not to expect too much of me in terms of academic prowess or stickability.

But it’s true. I’m not a sticker when it comes to boring stuff. And I mean no disrespect to any speaker in saying so but, unless you keep me entertained with startling insights, humour or the odd magic trick, you can forget it. I will switch off quicker than a lightbulb in a greenie’s outhouse.

Not even some of the great orators of the world could keep my attention if it decided to so wander. For example, I can see me in biblical times with my Bedouin brain awandering. At the Sermon on the Mount, there I’d be fidgeting and checking my wrist-sundial every five shadows. Who were the Beatitudes anyway? I’d be wondering. Saint John, Paul, George and Ringo?

As Churchill delivered his moving “We shall fight them on the beaches!” speech, I’d have probably been doodling idly and wondering what was for lunch.
When JFK blasted out, “We choose to go to the moon!” I’d likely have been watching ‘Adventure Island’ (NASA’s space program not being exactly the thought fodder of most rural Australian kids).

But, oddly and in stark contrast, my attention was fully there for Lord Spencer as he railed against the paparazzi over the death of Princess Diana. It was a gut-wrenching time during which I came to better understand the pull of ordinary people towards celebrity. On the day of Diana’s funeral I sat in front of the telly and cried for six hours straight. It was both pathetic and enlightening to realise that someone I’d never met could move me so much.

Getting back to the speeches, let just me clarify one thing. If you are going to throw in a little humour, please make sure your audience will get the joke.

I recall an engineer friend who was preparing a speech for an international conference. He ran his speech past me beforehand, complete with (what he thought was) a very amusing joke. My non-amusement was palpable but I tried to cover it by suggesting perhaps I just didn’t understand engineering humour. He unfortunately didn’t take my hint to rethink his ‘joke’ and went on to include it – apparently quite unsuccessfully -- in the speech.

And so, here’s my public speaking advice in nutshell:

Keep it simple. Keep it quick. Wear a muppet costume……….. and get off as soon as possible!