Last week, I talked on the big #id24 stage. From "talk accepted" day to talk day, I was so proud, and excited! Sure—there were the odd butterflies and temptations to drop out, but all in all I was radiating with excitement and confidence. Then, came talk week. Things, were "going", .. but, in a sort of *peculiar* way. Still though, I kept my head down and carried on. Next thing I knew, it was talk day—and I couldn’t of been less ready. When that red "we are recording" light started blinking, I stopped blinking. I was a stunned and stunted deer in the headlights—I bombed the talk.
Look, we don’t need to sugarcoat it people. I truly appreciate the compassionate support and words of endearment expressed by family, friends, and colleagues. But in all seriousness and with man’s dignity filters removed, you know it like I know it, it was atrocious. If that feels too harsh, fine—it was cringe.
I know my potential, and I have zero doubt in that potential. But potential, does not always meet its potential. Sometimes, potential falls to the wayside and you’re left with, well, .. a missed opportunity.
I get it. I wouldn’t tell you either, if your talk sucked. That wouldn’t mean I don’t believe in *you* as a person or expert of your craft, it just means that on that given day and at that given time, you didn’t live up—you sucked. No matter how good and qualified, sometimes, we just fall short.
Now, I can’t say this with certainty, but I’m willing to bet that stranger attendees and talk viewers—would gladly endorse and embellish that point of you. And, good for them! That is a good honest assessment, I hope you expected better and know for a fact, that you deserved better.
Stranger attendee 1: "The described failed attempt and higher than moderately disappointing talk delivery, content, AND performance is spot on!"
Person next to attendee 1: "But a marvellous 10/10 score on introspective analysis. Perhaps the only saving grace but nonetheless an admirable quality."
Attendee 3: "Oh, absolutely! Without a doubt an impeccable 5 star score on self assessment accuracy, but sadly a mere 0 on talk delivery and execution."
***
For readers who don’t know, #id24 stands for Inclusive Design 24. First started in 2014, it’s an annual 24-hour online event of live recorded talks that get posted to YouTube, in realtime.
As soon as I was off air [...], wait! Let’s fill in some important gaps I haven’t mentioned yet. Did I mention they had to cut me off because my time was up? Yup, I was that guy. Anyways, back to my story. My immediate perception, my most impulsive and reactive one, was of vast humiliation.
I sat there motionless, *e*motionless, and speechless. I had known the talk was tanked, before the half way mark. Everything was going exactly *not* according to plan. I wasn’t delivering on the comfortable + casual + easy boxes. Boxes I needed checked.
The talk style / approach, would only be successful if performed and executed in an impressively calm and confident sort of way. I had practiced parts of my deck in a low humming voice as I wrote—but never in a fulsome way. Never from start to finish, like I would on talk day. So, I guess it shouldn’t have come to my surprise when shit "hit the fan" as early as t-minus 0.
So what happened? Only the big man (or woman) upstairs knows for sure, but here are some speculations I have.
From a "during the talk + talk delivery" perspective, I think I was largely too distracted with the mechanics of sharing a *live* "follow along URL" screen AND a second "for my eyes only" one. I’m one of few people who more often than not, uses one screen only. Something about it just felt unnatural. I don’t know why, I just know that it was tripping me up. In theory, that setup was fine. With practice—I’m sure it would have been a non problem.
But ladies and gentlemen, you don’t need to guess what happens when any performer takes the stage with zero practice! The lucky ones stumble, fumble, yet scrape by. The other majority of unfortunate souls—they fall and fail in variable degrees.
Those minutiae technical glitches, were throwing me for a loop. Those distractions, as insignificant as they were, prevented me from getting into that comfortable and confident presenter seat. I felt like I was talking beside the stage, .. instead of on it.
A lot of other stuff went wrong too, that in retrospect, I guess should make that end result an unsurprising one.
Stuff like...
1. Not having finished the deck, and having to tie a bow on it only minutes before "go" time (not a finished bow, a "this will have to do" one).
2. Only having eaten a waffle all day because I was scrambling and too absorbed, nose pressed too close to my deck.
3. Taking the wrong execution / delivery approach, and knowing it pretty early on, but failing to pivot when I should have pivoted. Instead, I forged ahead with what I had. Forging ahead on that path was not only the wrong fork in the road, but also an arduous and convoluted one too. One that was in all likeliness, 90% less effective than, well, frankly—any other approach.
4. Logging unhealthy hours on something that didn’t need unhealthy hours logged. I stayed up until midnight and past midnight for ~3 consecutive days leading up to the talk.
***
Does that mean I didn’t work my butt off? No! I worked my butt *and* tail off. In fact, I blew over the estimated time I had reserved for preparing my deck, doing dry-runs, getting feedback, and anything else in between by 1000%. And it stopped at "preparing my deck" because well, I never finished the deck.
I know my material like the back of my hand, and I’ve articulated it for layman and technical audiences hundreds of times. In theory, it shouldn’t have taken me long to whip anything up. Right? Wrong. What should have been a cake walk, ended up being a trudge through the mud.
As alluded to in the talk, equally important to the "on paper" and checkboxes stuff, is the *philosophy* stuff that supports this work. The reasons, and beliefs, for instance, that motivate us to do what we do, and with passion that most other people can’t quite understand.
It was that latter stuff that without my knowingness, rock blasted its way through my subconsciousness and onto the talk centre stage.
Why do I think that happened? I think it comes down to the *different* theme I dangled throughout the talk.
I, am different. In fact, very different. A black sheep. A different duck. A magic needle from an enchanted haystack. And you know what? I’m damn proud of it. Notably, the parts of me that fall under the disability and impairment categories. Those, are the things I wouldn’t change or trade up for anything. They’re the parts of me that allow me to achieve things that other brain types can’t.
I’m 37 years old, and just last year received an ADHD diagnosis, with an 11 out of 10 score. Every box, got a big fat check.
That discovery and awareness opened me up to a whoooole new understanding and genuine appreciation about all kinds of past and present "me" monsters in the closet. Stuff I’d struggled with and failed to appreciate and embrace—my whoooole adult life.
I was always very aware and introspective (of my struggles and differences), but I didn’t understand why. Despite all the good, my lack of understanding brought on a lot of confusion and self esteem struggles, that—inevitably spiralled into bad chronic depression and intense social anxiety. Highly debilitating level stuff. Monumentally life impacting, in mostly negative ways. I imagine many people who know me will read this and say "ah, of course", and yet—others will meet it with shock or worse genuine disbelief.
To cut a long story short, I let my personal temporal, and at once progressive and permanent, cognitive impairment or dare I say disability story, get in the way of what my audience came for. I had zero intention or awareness of what I was doing, but I realized after that that’s probably why I stuck to that "track".
In my absorption, it felt purposeful, significant, and important, to emphasize our unanymous *differences* and its objective goodness. I wanted others to take that away and also embrace their and other people’s differences.
Like I said already too many times, I was big time down in the dumps after the talk—but then something changed.
***
A change of heart, or perspective I guess. After dark ruminations and self loathing + pitying, and even while all that bad stuff was spinning around in my head, there was another part of my brain determined to solve the problem. I was grieving the hardship, but at the same time moving on and coping. I was determined to find solutions and a strategy that turned this negative, into a positive.
Why? I guess because all other options seemed pointless, like non-viable solutions. Well all get kicked down sometimes, that’s just a part of life. Life, is filled with all kinds of good and bad surprises. A negative experience is only truly negative when we fail to recognize its lessons taught, growth opportunities, and / or hidden messages.
In every failure, in every loss, is an opportunity.
The talk was a major disappointment for me (and a miserable one at that). But there were good parts too. For instance, talking on a conference stage has always been a big fear of mine. It was virtual, sure, but still—that’s gotta count for something. It wasn’t just *any* stage, this was a stage where some of the industry’s biggest names, people I look up to, tune in to and talk at.
So yeah—I faced a big fear. I put myself in a vulnerable position I never thought I’d voluntarily put myself through.
What were the hidden messages and truths?
For one, I shared with the world in a live recorded setting, who I am and what I stand for—with full authenticity and without shame or fear of what others thought.
I was vulnerable and willing to make mistakes. I fell down, and now I’m facing humility. Despite some temporary immense shame and self disappointment, I’m now fully embracing what happened.
I showed up. I didn’t let fear get in the way of what I wanted to say or where I wanted to be.
***
Other positive takeaways and future plans in light of that setback?
I talked earlier about the talk "style" and approach being the wrong one, and I stand by that. So what can will I do about that? I can will make and share with the world a *second* deck. A completely different angle / approach that’s 90% practical 10% theory (the stark opposite of what my talk deck was).
I’m also gonna *finish* the deck I used for my talk. Sure it fell waaaaaay short on what my talk promised, but despite that—there’s some *theory* keep-worthy stuff.
In the limitations of what "slides.com" reasonably allows me to do, I will make both talks as accessible as I can.
***
I’m committed to making up for this—to squeezing the positive out of the negative. I have a wealth of knowledge and expertise I’ve wanted to share with the community for soooo long now, and this bad experience promises to deliver on that gift.
Everybody falls. So long as we’re willing to get back up, we’ll be stronger and better for it. Make good on your bad’s, because what else is there to do? Feel bad for yourself? Maybe, but you know where that leaves you? Feeling worse. And you know where that gets you? Nowhere.
Next time you fall on your head, remember to:
- Seek help.
- Mend the wound.
- Stop the bleeding.
- Let it heal.
- Stop bellyaching.
- In due time, get up and off the ground then try again whatever it is you were doing when you fell (maybe wear a helmet this time).
Failing, with grace and triumph.
Thanks for reading! If for nothing else, it’s nice to be writing again.
<3