I gave my first paid motivational speech in March of 2001. The way it came about was somewhat serendipitous. The month before it happened, I attended my very first weekend workshop at the Coaches Training Institute (CTI) where I received my training as a professional coach. Prior to that first course, I got some new business cards printed up that said “Mike Robbins, Motivational Speaker.” While technically this wasn’t a lie since I had given motivational talks at a couple of high schools and Rotary Clubs, I hadn’t been paid to give a speech. I wasn’t what would be considered a “professional.” These business cards were designed to be an “act as if it’s already happening” type of thing for me. Since I didn’t think I would know anyone at this workshop, I decided to pass out my cards and introduce myself as a motivational speaker—just to see how it felt.
The workshop went well, I learned a lot, and I met a number of great people including a woman named Christine, who worked for Sutter Health, a pretty big health care company with dozens of hospitals and medical centers throughout Northern California. Her job was in training and development, and part of what she did was bring in outside speakers and trainers to work with their employees. Christine and I hit it off and we exchanged business cards. She seemed like she’d be a good contact to have; I decided I’d reach out to her once I got my speaking business off the ground. The day after the workshop, I sent her a quick note to say how nice it was to meet her. I figured I’d circle back around with her in six months or a year.
Less than two weeks later, I got a frantic phone call from Christine. “Hey, Mike, it’s Christine,” she said, in a rushed manner. “Oh good, I’m so glad I caught you live on the phone,” she continued. “I just got a call from the CEO at one of our large hospitals, Sutter Medical Center in Sacramento. He’s all freaked out because he has a day-long management meeting next Wednesday, and his speaker just canceled. I told him, don’t worry, I’ve got a great guy!” Christine then said, “So here’s the deal: I gave him your number and he’s going to call you in like twenty minutes, okay? Now, do me a favor and don’t tell him that I’ve never seen you speak, because I told him you were awesome.”
“Wow, Christine, thanks!” I said, not knowing exactly how to respond. I felt simultaneous joy and terror, not really sure which one came first—they were both there with lots of intensity. I wanted to say, Thank you, but I’m totally not ready for this and am worried I’ll screw it up, but I didn’t. I also wanted to come clean with her about my lack of experience, but I didn’t want to blow the opportunity. In the midst of my conflicting thoughts and feelings, I simply said nothing. Christine said, “I have to get back into the meeting I just stepped out of to call you. Let me know how it goes with the call—he’s a great guy, you’ll love him and he’ll love you.”
We got off the phone, and the feelings of joy and terror continued, but the terror seemed to be taking over as the joy faded quickly. My biggest concern was that the CEO would ask a fairly basic and appropriate question like “Who else have you spoken for?” I didn’t think my response of “Skyline High and the Mill Valley Rotary Club” was going to impress him very much. I figured once he found out I had almost no experience, there’s no way he’d hire me, and not only would I miss out on this opportunity, I might damage my credibility and relationship with Christine. As I waited for the phone to ring, I made a commitment to myself that I was not going to lie to this man. But, if he didn’t ask, I wasn’t going to say anything.
He called less than 20 minutes later, and he never asked about where I’d spoken. As it turned out, he was a big baseball fan, so he was quite impressed with my sports background. We talked about baseball and teamwork—and some of the connections between sports and leadership. At the end of the conversation, he invited me to come up to Sacramento to deliver a 90-minute speech on “the keys to creating a championship team” for the 200 people attending his day-long management meeting. And, he actually offered to pay me real money to do this. I was stunned but found the courage to say, “Yes, I look forward to meeting you and speaking to your group.” I got off the phone, let out an excited yell in my apartment, and then the feelings of terror hit me again, because, as you can imagine, I didn’t have a 90-minute speech on “the keys to creating a championship team” prepared. But, over the next six days, I came up with one.
I made the two-hour drive from San Francisco the following week for the event. I was scheduled to speak at the end of the day, from 3:30 to 5:00 P.M.—probably not the most ideal time since people would likely be tired of sitting all day and ready to go home by then. I had turned 27 the month before, and when I walked into the room and looked around, I realized I was probably the youngest person there, which added to my already significant level of anxiety. By the time I got introduced to come up to speak, I was so nervous I could hardly even catch my breath. Have you ever felt so nervous that you were sure the people around you could actually hear your heart beating? That’s how I felt.
I don’t even remember what I said for the first ten minutes. It was like an out-of-body experience, and not the good kind. But soon enough, I started to calm down and have fun, and then things actually started to go pretty well. Toward the end of my presentation, I remember thinking, I wonder if these people have any idea I’ve never done this before? I was amazed that even in the midst of my fear and doubt, I actually felt pretty comfortable, confident, and natural up there. And, from the sounds of the applause and the positive comments afterward, it seemed like people resonated with me and my message, which felt great. It was definitely a peak experience for me, and I was proud of myself and grateful it had gone well.
As I was driving home still buzzing from the excitement of my speech, I asked myself a really simple but important question: What did I just do that allowed that to work out so well, especially for my first time? I came up with three answers to that question. First, I tried to just be myself, even as nervous as I was. Second, I tried to talk about things I know about and not pretend to know things I didn’t. And finally, I tried to connect with the audience in a personal way. That was it.
Thirteen years later with now close to 2,000 presentations under my belt, those three things still ring true.
Too often in life, we unnecessarily overcomplicate things. As Woody Allen famously said, “Eighty percent of life is just showing up.” I think he’s right and that’s true whether we’re giving a speech, going out on a first date, having an important meeting at work, playing with our kids, trying something new, working on a creative project, or doing just about anything in life—big or small.
We erroneously think that we have to be prepared or organized in order to do certain things that matter to us. And while there is value in preparation and organization, for sure, often our obsession with these things is based on our fears or simply our inability to see that we’re already prepared, even when we don’t think we are. The most important thing we can do is show up and be ourselves.