As the microphone battery pack inched down inside my underpants, heading towards the leg opening and ultimately to the floor, I thought –
Why do I keep doing this to myself?!
The answer to that question, every time, is that this is what I love to do. The message is important.
Public speaking is one of the most common human fears. Some people would rather lick paint than speak in front of a crowd of any size. I’ve been talking about hearing loss for over 30 years – presentations on how to live better with our hearing challenges, keynote speeches, speechreading classes, dramatic performances that portray the hearing loss life, etc. At first, it was scary but for me, the speaking is the easy part.
The challenge lies in all the other things that can go wrong during a live presentation or performance.
- You have to pee.
- You forget your lines.
- You run out of spit.
- The audience looks bored, especially the one in the front row who makes her point by nodding off, chin on her chest. If anyone has snored during one of my talks, I haven’t heard it and therefore, it hasn’t happened. (The ‘if a tree falls in a forest’ argument.)
- You’re asked the one question that you specifically told people you would not answer because you’re not an audiologist: What kind of hearing aid should I get?
But the main glitches involve TECHNOLOGY. People with hearing loss depend on technology – our hearing aids, telecoil and Bluetooth, the captioning, the amplification, the Zoom connection, batteries and electricity. But while technology fails are common, hearing loss technology was never designed to go in underpants.
At a large hearing loss presentation, the clip on the microphone battery pack was missing, so I couldn’t attach the pack to my waistband. I had no pockets. The only choice was to stick it in my underwear and hope for the best. I haven’t presented without pockets since.
In a theater performance, the wireless headset was unstable because of my cochlear implant sound processor on the side of my head, so the stage manager taped it to my cheek. Mid-show, the tape started working its way off, sending the mic tip toward my eye. The inimitable Juliette Sterkens emerged from the audience, re-taped it with a band aid and glided graciously back to her seat. Unfortunately, no photos exist of this heart-stopping showstopper.
There have been sound system fails, captioning that was too small, too big, too horrible, or too not there at all. I’ve had to present standing on an orange crate because there was no stage and the audience couldn’t see me. Do you know how small an orange crate is? One misstep and I would crash to the floor.
But all of these fails are part of the joys of live presentations. The secret lies in being prepared for what might go wrong – checking everything ahead of time. But when s**t happens, it’s not the end of the world, especially if you can laugh at it, ,and the audience is forgiving. Since the pandemic kickstarted the Zoom generation, many of my presentations are virtual, eliminating many potential in-person dramas. You need to dress nicely only from the waist up and if you’re not talking, you can disable your camera and run to the loo, a no-no during a live stage presentation.
Yet, being in the same room with your audience can create a powerful connection; these people want and need to know what you have to say. They can see all of you. It’s easier to laugh with you and cry with you. They can hug you when you’re done.
There is a growing tsunami of hearing loss, and people need real information from people with the lived experience and the tools that can help. Student groups, senior groups, schools, places of worship – these are just examples in your community where you might consider sharing not only your story of life with hearing loss, but also the strategies that have helped you communicate better.
Yes, presenting can be scary if you’re new to it. But what’s scarier is knowing that, if people don’t get this important information from somebody, they will keep mucking about in misinformation and the stigma that says hearing loss is somehow shameful, and they won’t take the necessary steps to improve their overall health, not just hearing health.
Is talking about hearing loss something you could do locally?
I think you could.
Two important things to know: Good presentations improve with practice. Every speaker at every single talk feels some nerves before a presentation – and that’s a good thing. It keeps us alert and attuned to giving the best presentation that we can.
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