Bumps & Bruises
The Show Must Go On, Part I
by Susie Vanderlip, CSP

It may sound like an old cliche, but regardless of the circumstances, "the show must go on" has been a core belief that has gotten me through untold difficulties in the speaking profession. Shall I share a few?

I remember the time I took a red eye from LAX to Indiana. I was already nursing a sore throat when I left. It was February, I was traveling too much (yes, we speakers have a high "fear quotient" that can absolutely drive us to overbook for fear of never getting any more!). I was grateful that night that no one else was in my row, so I put up all the arms and fell asleep in a crumpled heap. When suddenly SNZZzzzSNKKGRGGGKKK! The snoring lump across the aisle was buzzing like a chain saw at a lumber camp. With fantasies of finally getting on the talk shows ("Distraught airline passengers who bludgeon fellow travelers!"), I struggled through the night, dozing intermittently between my neighbors snore sets. Where’s a pea shooter when you need one?

Needless to say, I arrived at 8:30am exhausted, bleary-eyed, and 100% hoarse! Severe laryngitis had set in. I was scheduled for my first statewide conference keynote for the KEY Club organization. This event could make or break my reputation for conferences in numerous other states. One thousand teenagers were revving up their excitement and enthusiasm; and I was the opening act to set the tone for the event. I arrived at the hotel to the reception of ten excited, eager, and reverential welcomes from the teen organizers. What could I say (or shall I say whisper) but "I’m FINE! I’ll be OK by tonight’s opening meeting. No need to worry." I lied.

A little sleep will fix me. However, I was at a teen conference in the heartland at 9:30am. My room would not be ready until 3:00pm! Improvise and "First things First", I commandeered the sofa in the conference headquarters suite and lay down for three hours. When I awoke, I tested my voice, "……" Nothing! I wanted to bolt! I was totally at a loss as to what to do, so I got to a phone, in private so as not to alarm my clients, and called my speaking coach and friend, Sarah Reeves. "Hhhhhhelp," I pled inaudibly.

"You’re going to be OK. You will be able to speak tonight," she calmly reassured me. "Hot water, lots of it, and lemons, lots and lots of them, and honey. And no talking ‘til its time for your keynote," she said. She gave me the most important tool of my professional speaking career, hope!

I ordered up the prescribed mound of lemons, hot water and honey, the likes of which room service had never seen. For 3 hours I spoke nary a word. I sipped, swallowed, and gargled.

At 5:00pm, I was in the conference hall preparing for a 7:00pm opening keynote. I met with the real hero of the conference keynote, the audio/visual technician. He found just the right ratio of volume to feedback to boost the microphone and give my barely audible voice a chance to be heard. And, the show went on and resulted in a "standing O", as teen leadership organizations like to call it.

The Lesson: A "never say die" attitude, the showman’s commitment to overcoming all performance obstacles, and thanks to two significant heroes: a support system of other professional speakers/coaches and reliable sound technicians - the caped crusaders of my day.