Helping Create Success
How I Handle My Hecklers.
Heckling-
1) transitive verb 2) to harass & try to disconcert with questions, challenges, or jibes: badger
Last year, I was giving a presentation to a room full of entrepreneurs. My slides were in order, the handouts were pre-set and I was prepared, fortunately, for what happened.
Maybe 3-4 minutes in, and a woman interrupts me with a question while I’m in the middle of making a point about…audiences, of all things. I pause, answer her question, and move on. She interrupts me again. This time I expand on my first answer and get back to my talk. She waits about 5 seconds before suddenly veering into dangerous territory, the Nazis and being Jewish in New York City…completely out of the blue as I’m talking about how to give a speech.
This woman was also my invited guest (I’d met her at a networking event) as well as cognitively impaired. My guess is that she’s used to interrupting and getting away with it, and I could also see that she was craving the attention. Do I take it easy on her? Let her enjoy a few minutes of the limelight?
Absolutely not. I stopped her, kept my gaze intently on her, and interrupted her every time she opened her mouth. It finally boiled down to a staring contest, with the rest of the room ping-ponging their heads between the two of us. Then I picked up my speech again, and that was the end of it.
Earlier in my speaking career, I might have gone along with being interrupted, but I’ve learned that there can only be one presenter. If some else tries to steal the focus from you, stand firm no matter what. You’re doing the audience a favor, as well as yourself.
I Knew He Was Lying By the Way He Said He Wasn’t!
Oh, I really don’t like liars and cheaters! Well, who does? But this one guy was so transparent in his fibbing to me that he deserves to be written about here. It happened last week, when my husband and I drove to Coney Island to check it out- I’d never been there.
We get there and look for a place to park. I see a big, abandoned lot that has cars in it, and drive in. There’s a man there, directing people where to park. He motioned to us, and I rolled down the window and asked how much it would be.
“$20.” My reaction was pure New York shock, as in “I live here and you’ve got to be kidding me!” It was an empty lot, with broken glass and litter everywhere. I said “$20? That’s too much.”
And then I realized that he was gaming me because I’m a blonde person, native American, with pale skin. He was non-native and not pale. He’s profiling me and trying to rip me off!
“It’s the same price for everyone,” he added. “Believe me.” Well, that’s precisely when I knew he was lying, or he wouldn’t have said it. The added “believe me” made me certain. My trusting husband was meanwhile saying “Just park here Katie-it’s fine!”
But it wasn’t fine, and so I gave the man a pained look and slowly drove away. Two blocks later, I parked on the street, for free. We had a blast just walking around and people-watching, looking at the guys fishing and staring at the ocean.
The best part? We each had a Nathan’s hot dog and an ice cream, for under $20