The art of communication
is the language of leadership.
—JAMES C. HUMES
Consider a dramatic scene in your favorite action-thriller movie. Let’s say a missile has just hit Times Square on Tuesday at noon. Or two cars have crashed head on, burst into flames, rolled over an embankment, and landed on a cruise ship of vacationers docked in port below. Or maybe two honeymooners have decided all’s fair in love and war and pulled knives on each other in the middle of the bank lobby while waiting for the cashier to open their safe deposit box.
Pick a scenario and stay with me here: Bystanders shriek. Some people scatter and duck for self-protection. Others gather and gawk at what’s happening. Soon a crowd forms. Onlookers begin to shout in all directions. Chaos reigns.
Then our hero or heroine makes a way through the masses to the center of the action and takes charge: “Get an ambulance. Call the cops. Secure the site. Establish communication with headquarters.” People fall in line. Chaos turns to order.
On a different note, imagine someone trying to take command of the same scene from the sidelines. In the case of the missile hitting Times Square, can you envision the crowd following orders from a SWAT commander sitting in Amarillo watching the strike on TV? Or can you picture a police officer trying to deal with the car crash scene from the comforts of the police station? How effective do you think a family member could be in breaking up the honeymooners if calling in on her cell phone from the grocery store to plead with the bride and groom to put down their weapons and cool off?
If you could imagine the contrasting scenes and the difficulties the out-of-pocket people might have in controlling and connecting with the crowds, you get the idea of “large and in charge.” Part of your personal presence is simply being visible. That’s why it’s called “presence.”
You increase your presence as you take up space. Literally. Of course, we can’t all be as tall as my speaking colleague, Mark Eaton, formerly of the Utah Jazz. When he’s collecting a group of friends in a hotel lobby to go out to dinner, there’s no problem finding him in the crowd. Few people can match him at 7 feet, 4 inches and 290 pounds—on or off the basketball court.
But visibility involves much more than just height. In fact, people often say to me when we meet offstage after a keynote, “Oh, I thought you were much taller.” (For the record, I’m 5’3″.) Think of this issue as the opposite of the shrinking-violent syndrome. We have several clichés for this “visibility” principle: “Get in the thick of things.” “If you want to lead, stay out in front.”
The late Hal Persons, acting coach to some of the greatest stars of all time, used this exercise when we coached corporate presenters at IBM and elsewhere: “Pretend you’re a light bulb. Push energy through the top of your head. Make the light come on.” Try using that concept yourself while you talk. It makes you stand taller and radiate energy through every pore in your body!
Several years ago, the brokerage firm E.F. Hutton (now part of Citigroup) used this TV commercial with great effect: The advertisement pictured two colleagues in conversation in a public place such as a restaurant or waiting for an elevator, and one would say to the other, “My broker is E.F. Hutton, and he says …” People nearby overhearing the conversation suddenly stopped in their tracks to listen intently.
Can you say the same about the effect when you speak? If not, what would make it so? Consider the following ways to call people’s attention as you “take the stage.”
Picture the scene in a big concert hall before the program begins. The auditorium buzzes as the waiting crowd chats and hails one another across the aisles. Orchestra members tune up their instruments. Then the maestro makes a grand entrance from stage left. The crowd grows quiet. The maestro climbs onto the conductor’s platform in center stage and bows to the audience. Thunderous applause as the well-wishers anticipate their entertainment for the evening. The maestro turns to face the orchestra, lifts his baton, holds it suspended in midair. Total silence.
At that moment, all eyes in the house are focused on the maestro. As the leader, he would not have the same effect directing from any position other than front and center.
The same is true of commanders in battle. The best don’t send their troops into battle; they lead them into battle. That’s true of leadership in any venture: Leaders with presence don’t stand aside and watch what happens; they stand front and center and make it happen.
When you have everyone’s attention, when things get quiet, when all eyes rest on you, you’ll be tempted to talk to those people nearby—those people seated directly in front of you. But don’t.
If you do, you’ll diminish your stature. The maestro can’t afford to let his energy waver and direct only those instruments immediately in his line of sight, forcing those in the sections farther away to strain to see him. Instead, he continues to stand tall, to wave his arms at full length, to point and bring in the trombone or the double bass at exactly the appropriate moment.
You, too, will increase your presence if you continually project to those farther away from you. Rather than keeping your eyes on the friendly faces down front, talk to those seated in the back row, last seat. With those people in mind, your brain will automatically adjust your energy level, voice, and body language to project so that you can engage those people at a distance. Project your physical presence to the cheap seats far away, and those even closer will engage with you as well.
Talking on trajectory makes you look nervous. Whether just leaving your seat to walk to the front of a meeting room, simply rising from your chair at the conference table, or joining a conversation when someone asks your opinion, pause before you begin.
Pausing prepares you to make an assessment and take control of a situation. Scan the room or the group for a moment; consider the key interest of those you’re speaking to. Never make the first words out of your mouth a throwaway line. Those meaningless mumbo-jumbo lines that people mutter at the beginning of a talk before they’ve put their brain in gear reflect no preparation: “Good morning. How are things going so far?” “Sorry we’re a little late getting started.” “This may not make much sense, but let me toss out a few ideas.” Such throwaways sound like practicing your scales before the real concert begins. (For suggestions about use and placement of appropriate introductory comments of thanks and recognition of VIPs in the audience, see my earlier book Speak with Confidence: Powerful Presentations That Inform, Inspire, and Persuade.)
The greatest benefit of pausing is that it builds anticipation for what you have to say. A long pause says, “Here come words of great import. Listen carefully. I’m not about to just open my mouth and rattle on.”
Then don’t disappoint.
Presence has much to do with how you are present. With intention, you can increase your space—both physical space and mindshare.