Dry. Dull. Bland. Banal.
Sometimes our use of language is so uninspired that it leaves the taste of chalk in a listener's ears. They close their eyes in order to retain precious moisture and they fidget in their seats as if sitting on a plump desert cactus.
Sometimes we don't even try. Count how many "really, really's" and you'll hear what I mean. What can we do to brighten our language?
Two answers (both of which you know):
1) It depends and
2) as long as it needs to be, but no longer.
So how do you figure out how long is long enough?
We all like to be acknowledged for the work we do; for the effort we put into something; and sometimes just for the sake of being human. We all have challenges to overcome. And this is true for both speech makers and meeting takers.
So how does one give kudos to another, in an environment where most all of the focus is on you, and not the other person to be recognized?
Sometimes, you're not alone on stage.
"Great! The other person can do all of the work," you think. Not so fast, Slick. You've gotta shoulder some of that responsibility. If you want your pitch, your presentation, your partner to be successful, you have to participate as well.
While being alone on stage imparts focus and attention from the audience more so than multiple would, having a pair of people on stage can be highly effective in getting your point across. But it only works well if you back each other up. Having another person on stage doing essentially nothing is a distraction. Don't be the distraction!
Overheard at a coffee shop, regarding a final presentation for a college communications class:
"Three of us were accountants, but the fourth was a geo-engineer. We all wore business casual, but he wore sneakers and a t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap that he refused to take off [emphasis from speaker]."
In my almost twenty years in the mobile and semi-conductor industry, I've never stood around and chatted with co-workers around the watercooler. Either the business I was in simply didn't have water coolers to stand around, or there the water cooler was just located in the most inconvenient of places, like next to the boss's office. So no standing around for me.
At whatever age you learn to ride a bike (if you have done so), it's safe to say it's no easy task, at least initially. When you're young, you're own body and pressure from parents and peers gets in the way just as much as learning how a bicycle work does; and when you're older, habits and attitude can be just as inhibiting.
Yet, once a you pass some magic threshold, it's as if you've always known how to ride. Sure, you're not an expert; you're not going to be doing stunts and you'll stumble here and there, but the hard part is done and a "naturalness" replaces most of the struggles. Why is that? And how does it apply to public speaking?
We're creatures of habit, pattern-making machines. We crave novelty and often (well, at least I do) overindulging in social media, videos, TV, eating, drinking, etcetera, just to get that dopamine rush.
But feedback — like in the form of an evaluation of a speech your developing, or a valid critique from you boss — is almost always a novel experience as well, right?
Fruitful feedback is a form of productive novelty.
When I was a kid, I was terminally shy. The concept of eye contact was as terrifying as jumping off a bridge. The sensation of the hair raising on my back each time I'd even glance someone's way was a clear sign of being in a flight response. If I didn't know you, I probably barely would look you in the eye.
Thankfully, partly through the miracle of puberty and then practice through college, I had far less trouble making eye contact with folks; came to understand the cultural norms regarding it as well, just so I didn't overshoot any tender boundaries.
What I've noticed over the years in networking and business meetings is almost an inverse problem that I had — people are too focused on eye contact. Not in a creepy way, but in an exclusitory way.
Imagine how you feel when you walk into someone home (hopefully your own!) and smell the comforting and warm scent of chocolate chip cookies, and apple pie, or cinnamon buns. Right away, you know what's coming. Deliciousness!
You don't have to see the cookies to know they are ready to eat. You know way ahead of time. In speech making, you'll want to do the same for audience. Provide a 'scent' that will stick with the crowd, an odor that will heighten anticipation and delight when expectations are fulfilled.