How should you respond when a speaker’s presentation goes woefully wrong?
Several years ago, I was invited to moderate a panel of business executives responding to ethical situations I presented to them on stage in front of a large audience in downtown Richmond, Virginia. The panel of executives was seated across the stage. I was standing so I could roam a bit as I posed questions.
As we got started, the audio technicians connected a lavalier microphone to my necktie and had me place the transmitter for it in my pocket. They carefully showed me how to turn it on when I was about to introduce the panel members.
The auditorium filled. The executives walked to their assigned seats and sat down. As I recall there was a brief introduction of me by someone offstage and then I walked on, turned on my microphone and was greeted by intense screeching feedback. I tried turning the microphone off and on with no luck. The audio tech quickly came out, removed the lavalier microphone connected to me, and attached a different lavalier microphone. I turned it on. More screeching that they couldn’t figure out.
As he removed that lavalier microphone, the audience began to chuckle a bit, particularly as I held up my forefinger and told them I’d be with them in a minute. Another tech came out with a handheld wireless microphone, but before he left he had me turn it on and try it out. I did and it worked fine. As he handed me a second handheld microphone, the audience could hear him say something to the effect of: “Here, stick this one in your pocket just in case.” And then he walked off.
The audience, who perhaps wasn’t supposed to hear his directive, broke into applause as he left the stage. As the applause subsided, they were still laughing as we began and seemed far more relaxed than they had been when they walked into the room.
We started in on the program of posing ethical questions and the audience was among the most attentive and engaged I’d experienced.
The executives were relaxed and patiently waited as we resolved the audience issues. The tech guys never panicked but continued to try to solve the challenge, even adding a bit of humor to their attempts at the end, even if the humor was unintended. Partly because I kept talking to them without a microphone – or at least tried to by shouting – the audience never seemed to grow restless. Instead, they seemed to have empathy for what they knew must have been a bit of a nerve-wracking few minutes for me and the techs.
The audience’s grace and understanding about circumstances beyond my control has stuck with me. I also learned that more often than not an audience will stick with you if they believe you are trying to do good work.
Occasionally, I have wondered if it might be a good idea to hope something goes wrong prior to every talk, but that wonder quickly dissipates. Instead, my appreciation for the audience’s response that day has reinforced my belief that having patience with others when they might be struggling to do something is the right thing to do. I still haven’t perfected my ability to do this. Nevertheless, I persist.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com.
Follow him on Twitter @jseglin.
(c) 2025 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.
No comments:
Post a Comment