Monday’s lack of a WiP post was not an indication of WiP’s growing laziness. WiP in fact spent the day speaking to a couple of hundred undertakers at a convention in Atlantic City.
(WiP enjoys referring to herself by the name of her blog and infrequent magazine column. It makes her feel like a branded entity, not a sad and uncelebrated individual.)
Why undertakers, you ask? Ah. Often I wonder the same. I spoke at the behest of the New Jersey State Funeral Directors Association at their annual convention. My topic was a one-hour discussion of 10 things I thought the funeral consumer of tomorrow would want funeral directors to know today. (To book me as entertainment for your child’s next birthday party, contact my agent.) The gig came about not because of my brilliant blog and magazine contributions but rather because last year I penned a book about the funeral biz called Remember Me: A Lively Tour of the New American Way of Death (out in paperback today–buy it now!)
As I stood before hundreds of funeral directors, I realized not a one of them wanted to be there. My presentation would count as credit toward the continuing education they need to maintain their licenses. In fact, the bar codes on their convention nametags would record when they entered and when they left, allowing just a few minutes for bathroom runs. Talk about a captive audience.
But they weren’t a friendly one. Many sat with their arms crossed, faces set in frowns, minds perhaps on the poker tables at which I was keeping them from playing or the salt-water taffy I was keeping them from enjoying. At least it was cold; I wasn’t keeping anyone from a dip in the Atlantic. No doubt some of the antipathy was aimed at me personally (a non-undertaker deigning to tell them their business) and deepened by my message (in essence: change or die).
Some of you do this for a living. Some of you get up before large crowds and impart your business lessons, dazzling ’em with PowerPoint and videos and your shiny, spotless suits. Me, I am just a frazzled writer mom with a book to shill. I dazzled nobody. But I did come away with some public speaking do’s and don’ts–aimed mostly at myself, as reminders for the next time I ever open my mouth in the presence of others.
DO prepare ahead. What idiot arrives at a large convention without having written her speech? A hopelessly harried one, that’s who. I spent the evening preceding my presentations filling in an outline I’d made months prior. I even reread parts of my book. What idiot has to reread her own book?
DO incorporate visuals. In my line of work, PowerPoint is an application that has no use. Or so I thought. We’re all in the business of image-creating now, and public speaking is part of that, and visuals help keep a dead room awake.
DON’T exhibit any physical tics. An elderly white gentleman (there were many in this mostly white, mostly older crowd) approached me afterward with a comment: “Stop picking your nose.” I swear to God. I was totally startled. He said I touched my nose a lot. I don’t remember doing so, but I know I gesticulate a lot in conversation, and apparently to an older gentleman sitting 30 feet away it appears I pick my nose in public.
DO search the crowd for friends. I beseeched one favorite source from my book, an American Airlines pilot with a side business in ash scattering, to come down. Boy, was I glad for that one friendly face in the audience. He laughed at my jokes and had tea with me between presentations. And I got lucky: being that I conducted much of my research in New Jersey, there turned out to be a handful of other friends in the crowd. An entire family of undertakers I plagued for a year turned up. I don’t know if this warmed me to the rest of the crowd, but it sure made me feel like less of a loser.
DON’T make hasty travel arrangements. In my hurry I neglected to print out MapQuest directions, and thus wound up halfway to Philadelphia. Screwed-up travel can add layers of stress to these already stressful situations.
DO choose wisely from the room-service menu the night before an engagement. My stomach said soup and toast, but my eyes said shrimp cocktail. I regretted my ultimate decision.
DO speak in public. Despite the stony silence of the crowd, I actually had a good time. I said what I thought, and I said it passionately. I shared research and ideas I thought would be useful to their businesses. I conveyed a consumer-driven message to an industry that has in the past been accused of ignoring consumers’ wishes. I even sold a box of books. And you know what? I was glad I did it. It was worth taking a personal day from my precious allotment of holidays to drive 260 miles (plus a 40-mile detour) for an exercise in brand-building. Really.