What does it mean to be an authentic communicater?
“You are perfect, just as you are (and you can use a little improvement).”
–Shunryu Suzuki
Over the past 11 years I’ve coached literally hundreds of executives through a surprising and sometimes grueling mock TV interview at the Center for Creative Leadership in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
And the funny thing is, with few exceptions the executives who go through this interview, no matter how much (or little) media training or exposure they’ve had feel that they did terribly.
Even after a sumptuous dinner it’s with a somber, hangman gallows humor that they enter the debrief room that evening to watch themselves and hear commentary from a psychologist, their peers and me.
With the lights dimmed they watch themselves objectively, some for the first time. And just as predictably, what most see is pleasantly surprising. They did well. At the very least they were adequate. They weren’t terrible like they first suspected. And to others they seemed perfectly natural and competent.
Of course, there are always a few imperfections, but they are mostly slight and easily correctible with just a little practice. (More on that in a future blog).
Perhaps you are saying, “Well, yeah. You are working with high level executives. Of course they are going to be good already.” And that is true, but only in part. Most are excellent communicators already–but not necessarily in front of a camera. Most are extremely bright. But they, just like you and me, have a certain trepidation when being filmed for TV.
Maybe it’s because unlike in person, or even a group presentation, there isn’t that sense of audience. There’s no feedback, just the daunting red glare of the live camera light. It’s hard to feel comfortable with an interviewer you just met two minutes ago and who is now asking uncomfortable questions. You have no idea how you are coming across and at this point many businesspeople resort to a kind of executive speak. They retreat to safety, speaking abstractly and in generalities. It’s as if they were addressing a board interested only in a strategic 50,000 foot view of their operations. But even this is fine, as far as it goes.
One of the questions asked, often the last, is a personal question. “Tell me about your new grandchild,” I might say. Or, “What about that scuba trip you just took.” Or, “I hear that on weekends you like to play in a rock-n-roll band at your church?” Inevitably, the veneer of seriousness disappears. A smile forms. And a different person speaks.
Who is that person? And why has he or she been hiding all this time? That person speaks naturally. They laugh. They show enthusiasm and energy. There is an aliveness, a sparkle in their eye. That’s the person I feel most comfortable with. That’s the person I most like.
When I ask how they can bring some of that energy, that passion, to their previous business responses they often look puzzled. “There is no way. I mean that other stuff is serious. There is no room for levity.” True, some topics are serious. Layoffs, disappointing results, these are all worthy of, and may require a serious tone. But that’s not entirely what I mean. I want that other person, the more authentic one, to answer the question in a way that is like one person speaking to another, not someone making a statement or trying to remember what the press release said.
There are ways to create a bridge between those two personas, and to do so with integrity and authenticity. How you can do this using some of the latest research on neuro-physiology I’ll explore next week in part two of this posting.
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I find that some participants will deliberatley think about removing part of their natural personality before the exercise starts! One person told me that he decided to pin his hands to the chair’s arms so that he wouldn’t wave them around. This had the effect of making the rest of him look like rigor mortis was setting in rapidly!