One of my favorite cartoons from the New Yorker shows a speaker at a podium with the caption, “I will now fend off questions from the audience.” Why does that make me chuckle? Because most of us, when making a presentation, regard the Q&A portion as a war zone. We want to make our presentation (and I
I was ready: I had my frozen yogurt and my fleece blanket and my children had been banned from speaking to me unless there was blood. It was the Golden Globe Awards, one of my favorite nights of the year. I couldn’t wait to see the fashion do’s and don’ts, the winners, and the losers,
1. I’m not available then, but could be available on (insert date)no buttonWould that date work? 2. Oh, I will be so disappointed to miss this! 3. While I would love to do that for you, [insert type of priorities] preclude it. I hope you understand. 4. I am so flattered that you asked but
One of my favorite rituals when my twins were babies was to give them their nightly bath. I loved the one-on-one (-on-one) time with them, playing and splashing and just being together. Over time, they advanced from baths to showers, and from needing my help to wanting complete privacy, thank you very much! But one
It doesn’t matter if you’re presenting to two people or to two thousand people: When presentation anxiety strikes, you need some strategies to get you out of your own head and on to the stage with confidence, polish, and professionalism. Mark Twain once said, “There are two kinds of speakers: those that are nervous and
Five tips to dropping the phony facade and elevating your pitch so that you sound like a real person instead of a marketing automaton. At a recent networking event, I walked up to woman who, like me, was trying to balance a plastic tumbler of wine, a plate of cheese, and a handful of business
This article is by Deborah Grayson Riegel, president of Elevated Training Inc., a communication skills training and coaching company. She is the author of Oy Vey! Isn’t a Strategy: 25 Solutions for Personal and Professional Success. Goldilocks would have a field day with my 11-year-old twins. Their chairs, their beds, and their oatmeal are just right, but
