The Velvet Bulldozer

I've always had the gift of gab. I can't do anything in short-form, from phone calls to email to blogging. My wordiness has always been a reflection of how I communicate with others.

That is unless I have to stand in front of a room of strangers and a video camera.

Last week my boss decided it would be beneficial for us to enroll in a "Speaking with impact" class offered through our employer. Since I took two speech classes in college, have spoken in front of crowds of hundreds of people, even sang karaoke in front of 400 strangers on a cruise ship, I didn't flinch when told to enroll in this course. Somehow I overcame my stage fright in all those other situations, why should this be any different?

The class was made up of eight professionals, each from different divisions of our company. It felt a little like a scene out of the movie The Breakfast Club but instead of a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal spending a Saturday in detention together, we were the corporate khaki-wearing grown-up version of the movie. In the place of those titles, we had a sales guy, a consultant, a marketing manager, a product manager, and a spaz (me).

Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.



Our instructors seemed nice at the first but it became quickly obvious that they were only there to break my spirit. Almost immediately, we were put on the spot, having to get up in front of the class (including my boss) and come up with a 90 second speech about who we are, how long we've been with the company, hobbies, etc. Oh, and if that didn't make you the slightest bit nervous, we were also to be videotaped doing this.

When my turn rolled around, I knew I was a little jittery. We were told to stand with our arms by our sides, feet planted steadily hip width apart. We were to make eye contact with the audience, and walk around a bit. When I got up there, I thought I had followed every rule to the ultimate detail. I even started fantasizing that after one viewing, the instructors would marvel at my stature and composure to the point I would be excused from the class.

What appeared on the video playback didn't resemble a confident person at all. In fact, the person speaking looked just like me, but she was fidgeting with her hair, looking everywhere but at the audience, shifting her weight from hip to hip, speaking without pausing to breathe, and most unfairly, the "camera" was obviously adding ten pounds to her figure. Damn camera...

Going back to Breakfast Club references, my fantasy of being excused from class seemed to suddenly resemble John Bender getting two months of Saturday detention from Vernon. And was Kristen, like Claire, a fat girls name? There would be no dismissal - it was obvious I needed this class...along with a membership to Weight Watchers.

For two days I was forced to speak several times in front of the class which put me completely outside my comfort zone. During breaks and lunch, I was a totally different person. The lunch time Kristen was relaxed, joked with classmates, even told a few stories. That Kristen had no problems with eye contact or completing sentences. My confidence was intact. Yet, as soon as the class would start again, I reverted to sounding something like Bob "Bobcat" Goldthwait and twitching like I had Parkinson's Disease.

My public speaking alter-ego:



If Hollywood were to make a movie of my two-day speaking with impact class, they would start with my awkward beginnings, and slowly, with each speech show gradual improvement. Something like the theme from Rocky would play in the background and there would be a montage of my highs and lows. On the day of the final presentation, I would start off with a stumble, overcome my mistake, and in the end deliver the most amazing speech ever. My classmates would give me a standing ovation, and my instructors would weep proudly and call me their best student ever.

Unfortunately, I live in the real world, so as I did make some baby steps in my public speaking abilities, it wasn't anything I'd actually call true improvement.

As the second day of class wound to a close, each of us were called on to comment about what we saw as strengths in one another. Coming up with accolades for my classmates was easy. Some had a gentle way about them and knew exactly when to pause so you were instantly captivated. Others were incredible in locking eyes with the audience, pulling you into their every word. Some mastered walking in a arch, others overcame saying um and like every other word. And then came my turn. I took a deep breath and waited in dread that I'd hear crickets chirping instead of accolades.

In the end, I was my worst critic. While I may be a nervous wreck in front of a crowd, my content remained strong and my sense of humor was well-received. The best moment was when I was christened with a new nickname...The Velvet Bulldozer. The nickname is not a reference to the pounds the "camera" was adding to my physique, but rather, as my classmate put it, if I could pull it together in the confidence arena to be more like the sassy, story-telling, funny Kristen at lunchtime, look out.

I don't know if the day will come where I'll ever feel that confident in front of a crowd, but I love the nickname nonetheless. I do know with every speaking opportunity, I will try a little harder, and I'll always think fondly of my own personal Breakfast Club.