Performing Well
Posted by Rick Alan RiceMay 14
Of late, I have been deeply involved in something that is almost antithetical to my nature: analysis of performance, most specifically the components of performance that must be mastered to master the performance art. In my current brush with the performance demon – the one that studies show terrifies more people that does any other aspect of life, other than suddenly having it all end – I am concerned with one of the mundane aspects of performance, for performance is legion, that being skillfulness in presentation.
People who make their living entirely on their design skills, like architects and fashion designers, tend to excel at doing presentations. They tend to be naturals at some of the foundational components of effective presentation, not the least of which is awareness of self.
Awareness of self is the “Y” in the road of face-to-face interpersonal communications; the junction at which things either proceed along a positive path or go disastrously wrong. Design types tend to relish that cleavage in the roadway because it is their launch pad for doing the thing that all of their efforts to this point have been building to: the chance to explain their vision. That vision thing focuses them, and often aligns rather well with their god-like visions of themselves, which is admittedly an editorial take on my part and yet illustrative of another key aspect of this story about presentation: attitude, which is like a spice, a flavor ingredient. It may help or hinder, but attitude must be present in some degree to tickle the taste buds of the receivers of our presentations and keep them engaged.
In this realm of presentation, my cross to bear (or bare, in the case of this article) is that I often work with engineers, who are quite different personalities from those one finds in the pure design fields. Where designers are all about communication of ideas and concepts, engineers are boot-on-the-ground builders and typically proud of it, which focuses them entirely on technical tasks, leaving very little time for development of soft communication skills. They are binary type communicators: Yes/No.
Engineers – even design engineers – also tend to be a little boxed in by their missions, which are largely defined by cost and schedule. These are truly mundane, though critical, subjects and the dry nature of the detail hardly lends itself to poetics, as does more aesthetic environmental and architectural design.
Then there is attitude. In an industry rife with clichés, the one most commonly heard with regard to organizing the efforts of engineers is “herding cats”. (For you dog people, herding cats is a metaphorical equivalent to expecting your canine to put away your groceries.) It is not that engineers are difficult people – that characterization is more befitting of their brethren on the design side – but they do tend to be independent souls who are smart and analytical, have no real need to cow-tow to anyone who would never show up on a construction site, and they are frequently outside of the mainstream in their social-political perspectives. My take on the type of heavy civil and environmental engineers that I work with is that they have the skill sets most likely to survive the first several waves of human annihilation once the movie starts and the zombies show up.
As for the present, however, engineers’ issues with survival are principally economic, and there they can have some real problems when it comes to the aforementioned focus of their communication skills. Devise and construct a system to move water, generate electricity, and provide shelter from the storms: Yes. Present themselves to a group of bureaucrats and administrators to explain the details of their work and build value for their very existence: Not so much.
Where designer types will jealously guard their proposals, handle content themselves, and build everything toward their opportunity to talk about it all in a presentation to a selection committee, engineers tend to take little ownership of the details of technical proposals, often choosing to remove draft content rather than add nuance or magnification, even when page limitations would allow elucidation. In review processes, they tend to pot-shot text they have not previously read, often without awareness of thematic statements represented within the draft as a whole. Like project engineers do, they redesign the product in the field, on the fly, to deal with situations as discovered. This is value added engineering that protects cost and schedule when practiced on a building site, but it creates real problems at the selection committee client interview. Engineers have their own inner dialog in mind rather than expansion on the proposal themes that get them to selection committee interviews.
Of late, it has been my job with Rick Alan Rice Consulting, LLC to address this issue on behalf of one of my primary clients, a giant construction conglomerate that ranks near the top of the heavy civils list on Engineering News Record.
Performance Anxiety
Humans are one nervous set of animals. This is largely because we are wired that way, evolved through awareness of threat to survive by fighting for our lives or running to safety. For obvious reasons, most people – most animals, for that matter – choose the latter option. Either way, our instinct is to startle,
And people and animals of all kinds hate to be startled! It is upsetting to all but the few who respond with a welcome adrenaline rush that makes them crave the extra stimulation.
Those adrenaline junkies are the alpha members of our society. The act of embracing what most of us fear – a challenge of some kind that measures our capacity to respond, and in some sense our worthiness to survive – elevates these personality types to high positions in our society.
Who among us does not appreciate those who reap the most coveted rewards while exposing themselves to the greatest levels of risk? These people are our heroes, though we see that heroes often fail, and often disastrously, coming to messy ends long before their natural times.
Incongruous as it might seem, meeting hard endings is also why we like our heroes. They do the whole cycle for us, in vicarious ways, from striving through achieving and then on through to resolve. They are like stories that we take in from a safe distance, which open imaginative dream worlds in which we, too, do heroic things, perhaps to fail later, when it is all okay to do so, because we will have won.
But then there is reality.
Heroism, as it turns out, is an extreme form of showing up for life. Along the course of a normal day, people are faced with doing even simple tasks that feel outside of their comfort zones. Confronted with mundane challenges, people feel anxious.
Certainly part of the reason for our anxiety is that, more and more, we are a binary people, like the engineers I work with. We are Pass/Fail. And more critical than that, we are increasingly becoming a society in which Pass/Fail equates with Winner/Loser, which is a far less objective qualitative assessment and far more a subjective judgment. That, too, makes us nervous.
Within the course of our days there are scads of these Pass/Fail moments, and whether or not they add up to a Winner/Loser assessment is both social and personal.
We feel the personal first, of course, and most of us no doubt live in fear of the socialization – the wide social sharing – of our failings. Here again we have anxiety, which gnaws at our self-esteem and undermines our ability to do things well. There are tons of examples in life of peoples’ abilities to perform tasks being undermined by anxiety:
- Sex: Men can’t gain and maintain erections. Women are “frigid”.
- Golf: Players suddenly develop shank swings, which fester from seemingly nothing.
- Baseball: Second basemen suddenly lose the ability to throw the ball to first.
- Drivers: Suddenly make panic moves in busy intersections and create accidents.
- Co-exist with Animals: Otherwise friendly pets behave aggressively toward nervous persons.
Flying Wombats
A big part of whether or not we become losers in our vicious game of critical assessment, self and otherwise, is how we respond to situations and our own instances of failure.
My personal experience with performance anxiety surfaced first when I was in grade school and would be expected to stand before the class and read a paper. My response to these challenges was to do something that I recognize now in my own son: I would reframe the assignment I had been given to suit my own comfort requirements, at least insofar as writing the paper would be concerned. Where my head was at, I have no idea, because approaching school in this way – and this became a pattern with me – was a disaster! Institutions don’t want interpretations of the instructions they give, at least not until one gets into college. And once one enters the real world, instructions are not really up for democratic input anyway, as they usually come from bosses and clients and other authority figures.
My personal disastrous strategy was to write something vaguely to do with the assignment, and then stand up in front of the class and start to giggle hysterically, until I would turn red in the face from lack of oxygen and be asked to sit down. This not only failed to meet the standards and specifications for my school work, but even failed to endear me to my classmates on a comedic level, who could never understand a thing I giggled and had no reason to imagine that it could be anything clever. Quite the opposite, I am sure I appeared to be an idiot, all because that is what I presented myself to be.
Preparation
As the graphic at the start of this article intends to illustrate, being prepared, like a Boy Scout, is the foundational component of every effective communications response. I suspect that the wisdom to be prepared is as close to truth as any other ever conceived.
Being prepared – owning your material, whatever its nature – puts all other components of communication (Pace, Focus, Calm, and Attitude) into their proper perspectives.
Life, in its daily aspects, is really quite easy if one is prepared for what one will likely experience. It only gets messy when one falls behind the pace that life sets. Scrambling to catch up is anxiety and error producing, and errors lead to little failures, and little failures may add up to loss of confidence. Loss of confidence will most certainly translate into larger, more catastrophic social failure.
But there is also attitude, which is an external portrayal and an inner voice.
Attitude as an external force on the exterior world is like raw metal that needs to be refined to suit its various intended purposes. One must learn what attitude to best portray to others, to modify communications to best address the target audience. On the other hand, attitude as an internal force is each individual’s last wall of defense between accepting what you perceive others perceive you to be, or accepting your strength as being to persist as who you know you are, regardless.
Either way, the attitude we portray depends largely upon our comfort level with our preparation for our assigned task. People who are unprepared and confronted will tend to exhibit defensive attitudes, acknowledging that they feel judged, which will be difficult to turn into a countervailing positive.
People who are prepared – who know their stuff and have anticipated the challenges and the questions they will receive – tend to perform closer to levels of excellence.
Preparation consists of immersing one’s self in the material one is given to master, organizing one’s narrative or order of expression, developing “fixes” to a range of plausible challenging scenarios, and rehearsing.
People hate to rehearse, particularly those who are uncomfortable with being the center of attention, though this is precisely the role they are given in the selection committee interview process. The other groups of people who hate to rehearse are those who are already at a comfort level with the material and just want the thrill of showing their might. Professional and even a lot of amateur musicians are this way, though in those two groups you often get wildly different presentation outcomes. Here’s why: professionals learn how to marshal their expressions (presentations) to maximum effect, often exploiting the maxim that less is more; amateurs often over play, diluting the impact of their musical statement by tossing everything they can think to play into the overall performance. In the example of the amateur player you have another layer of nuance and complexity even in an instance in which the presenter knows his or her stuff.
Getting to the Bottom Line
Owning your material is the foundational component of presentation, but it means very little if the presenter does not also master the other aspects of the “performance art”: pace, focus, calm and attitude.
Pace – the tempo at which one rolls out a statement, be it technical description of a complex process or a musical composition – is all about consistency, training the listener to accept information at a steady and expected set of intervals. Musicians have a natural advantage in this, because their content is tied to a defined tempo; they practice to metronomic click tracks, and they often have a drummer who sets the beat often while hearing that metronomic click track through an ear piece. They lock that sucker in to the benefit of the presentation and the audience, who for the duration of the composition more or less know what the parameters of this statement are, and comfortable with that can give their focus entirely to the specifics of the information being provided.
On the flip side of that, lose the pace, lose the audience. Nothing undermines credibility like inability to keep a beat, whether you are performing in a band or working in a busy office. It is all the same, the operational rhythm being the golden variable.
If getting the pace right is the golden variable, then achieving focus is most certainly the sharp tip of the spear. The focus of the presenter equals the focus of the audience, it is just that simple. For the entertainer, the musician, the ability to win an audience over is dependent upon the commitment the performer has to his or her vision (their internal focus). Lounge acts, bar bands and mediocre presenters have in common the one binomial characteristic that flips the On/Off switch, discussed at the beginning of this article, to “Fail/Loser” mode: they don’t represent any focused message. To the contrary, in their lack of focus, of purpose even, they may broadcast a range of random, possibly unintended signals that tell the audience to ignore them, because they don’t really have any value to add to the proceedings. This is really the low expectation realm in which the lounge musician exists; providing a background sound that fills the awkward silences in conversations taking place at individual tables around the room, each standing the drinks of people without commitment to the person on the stage.
In a business presentation, on the other hand, there are much larger forces at play, possibly including the livelihoods of banks of personnel. This will tend to focus the attentions of a presenter addressing a selection committee, and if that presenter has mastered the content and practiced it at the most effective pace then the audience will feel the presenter’s focus and be won over by it, at least to some degree. Business decision makers, like decision makers in all aspects of life, need the signal that tells them it is okay to say “Yes”, often called the “buy signal”. A presenter’s focus puts their audience in that comfortable place where they can consider this an acceptable alternative, a solution they can live with without the fear of being judged negatively for their decision to accept.
Finding Calm
None of the wonder that accrues from mastering content and presenting it an effective pace with forceful focus and vision happens at all if the presenter is just too freaked out to hit their marks and speak their lines. This brings us back, full circle, to how we began this piece, with the acknowledgement that nothing frightens people any more than does public speaking, or making presentations, narrative, musical or otherwise.
Singer Tony Bennett has written of his evolution to that place of calm from which a performer or presenter does their best work. Bennett credits Frank Sinatra with coaching him to relax and enjoy being on stage and performing, which for the first decade of Bennett’s career had apparently been a nerve-racking experience.
Most presenters are not entertainers, and don’t get the repetitions that the Tony Bennetts and Frank Sinatras of the world get as they advance in their profession. A person doing 300 shows a year will soon enough become acclimated to the spotlight and, to use another sports metaphor, the game will slow down for them a lot. This will be the natural evolution of achieving the ownership of their material and the pace control that we discussed earlier. Focus, for a person doing 300 shows a year, can come and go without having anything near the catastrophic potential that losing focus has for the occasional presenter who may have only a few shots each year to make or break his business.
How a person – one who doesn’t have the repetition benefits of a stage performer – achieves calm, so he or she can present effectively in the few opportunities they get in a given period of time, is probably the central emotional/psychological struggle of each of our individual lives. We all just have a few big moments in our lives that really count, when we have to stand up and be something.
This knowledge of these milestone moments, these pivotal instances of Pass/Fail judgment, is panic inducing, but they needn’t be.
Perspective is needed, because for all the scary things just stated about the costs of blowing it, few of us actually deal with fatal flaw instances that are defining and permanent. The lives of people are not typically taken because they answer a question wrong in an interview. Even in a business situation with big money on the line, survival is most likely a conceptual or abstract notion not directly dependent upon any single aspect of any presentation task. Even when we fail, the sun comes up the next day and everything starts anew; changed, perhaps, by what has transpired leading up to this new day, but change on most levels has a shelf life and the direction of one’s future can be corrected by a performance that goes well and as planned.
There are entire industries devoted to helping people achieve perspective and calm (fitness, holistic health, psychotherapy, pharmacology, Yoga, recreational drugs, alcohol), and still others devoted to catharsis (sports, entertainment, vacation). Some combination of those things will work for some people, allowing them to achieve a focused tranquility that is fungible and can be experienced by others.
Barring evolution to a Zen-like state through a well-funded, active lifestyle, there is this focus device that I picked up from a professional in presentation coaching: the ABCs.
- A = Align your body – stand tall and balanced – so that it can circulate blood easily
- B = Breathe deeply so you will have plenty oxygen to fuel your brain’s ability to think
- C = Center – or ground – around what’s really important
Even if you can’t master your material, are as arrhythmic as a two-stroke engine, have the focus of a gnat, and are nervous as the shakiest gun in the west (Don Knotts), if you can follow the wisdom of the ABCs you at least won’t pass out during your big moment in the spotlight.
Rick Alan Rice (RAR) is the Publisher of Revolution Culture Journal and the Chief Executive Officer of Rick Alan Rice Consulting, LLC and the RARWRITER Publishing Group. He has had a long career as a writer and communications specialist, including engagements with top companies in the Architecture/Engineering/Construction, Information Technology, software development, academic research, commercial journalism, and corporate training business sectors.








