Public Speaking Humiliation
Filed under: Become a Speaker, Public Speaking, public speaking jobs
In my public speaking job I must confess, with a slight blush of embarrassment, I feel compelled to share with you a story of showmanship and a cautionary tale. I call this story “I’m On Fire.” It was one of the most humbling experiences of my life and the worst ever in my public speaking career.
It happened in Tampa, Florida, in the mid-90’s. I’d recently taken a job with Kaset as a motivational speaker and trainer. I was asked to do a special presentation for the Customer Service Training Department of the parking company for Chicago O’Hare Airport. The O’Hare representatives told me that one of their biggest customer relations problems involved car batteries. Occasionally, in the winter, people’s batteries would go dead, and they would need a jump. This particular parking company had a service to provide that assistance. The problem was that their people would sometimes get the cable wires crossed up and blow up the battery, creating an obviously bad situation. The company wanted to know what customer service should then do. They could always replace the battery, but how could the situation be handled right on the spot? This was the help they needed from me.
Well, I decided that I would demonstrate the battery exploding. This way, all the executives could see how well this situation could be handled, and I would be presenting it to them in a way that would be realistic and very entertaining. (I should mention here that I learned magic, in order to better captivate an audience. And, incidentally, pyrotechnics was one of the areas that excited me the most.) My scheme was to devise my own battery that I would blow up, in limited fashion, certainly, but with some flash and some sizzle so that it would present well and appear authentic. One of the necessary ingredients was flash paper, and I began by
putting in one piece, which was probably twice what I needed, along with some added
sparkle and other ingredients for effect. I’d rigged up my own fake battery and battery
cables, and had an igniter so that when I touched the cables to the battery, it would
sparkle and fizz and produce a little bit of flame. I thought this would be both humorous
and sufficiently realistic for the class.
I don’t know what caused me to do the following, but about an hour before the
class I decided to add a little more dazzle and, thus, put an extra sheet of flash paper in
the holder. There probably was now four times more bang than what was needed. And
I’ll never know what caused me to stick in that third piece of flash paper ten minutes
before the demonstration, unless it was just wanting to really have quite a shocking
flash for the group.
I truly had no clue that I no longer had an audience-wowing ersatz battery, but a
very dangerous bomb! Shortly into my public speech, I called up my good friend Jim
from the audience to play the part of a customer. He stood nearby as I began my
performance. As I touched the terminals, simulating blowing up the battery, the little act
I’d hoped would elicit a few appreciative “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” turned into a pyrotechnic
extravaganza, thickly peppered with horrified gasps and shouts from the assembled!
I will say in my defense, however, that the audience was unquestionably
captivated in my public speaking demonstration, as everything went up in a flash — the likes of which I’d never witnessed
before or since! A six-foot flame totally engulfed my head, knocking me backward into
my chart, which collapsed with me to the floor! Everyone in the room screamed! I
jumped back up and quickly tried to compose myself, ignoring every instinct to check
body parts. I immediately returned to the script and mumbled, “Sir, I am very sorry that I
caused that problem with your battery. You have every reason to be upset…”
But then Jim interrupted me and said, “James, I think you really need to go to a
hospital!”
“No, no, no,” I whispered, “let’s finish this. We have a break coming up.” I tried
to pick up where I’d left off, “Sir, I understand you’re upset…”
About then, I felt this searing pain on my face. Instinctively, I reached up and
touched my hand to it, pulling off a silver dollar sized piece of skin. I announced, “I think
we need that break now,” and I was on my way for medical help.
My first glance in a mirror revealed my facial skin tone was a burnt sienna,
highlighted by humiliating crimson. My hair had caught fire, and I’d burned off my
eyebrows and eyelashes. Fortunately, though, everything turned out okay, and I’d
avoided any permanent damage.