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During my run this morning, I found myself wondering when I actually became a speaker. It wasn't when I won my first Toastmasters contest. It wasn't when I joined the National Speakers Association. It wasn't even the first time someone paid me to give a speech. Looking back, I think I know exactly when it happened.
For years, I competed in Toastmasters speaking contests in Missouri. I worked hard, learned my craft, and won a lot of contests. Then I moved to Texas and, to my surprise, the same thing happened all over again. Eventually I had won enough contests that I was inducted into the Toastmasters Hall of Fame, meaning I was no longer eligible to compete.
Around that same time, I became active in the National Speakers Association. I attended conferences, met speakers I had admired for years, and even had opportunities to spend time with people like Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Les Brown, and Willie Jolley. The biggest lesson I learned wasn't from watching them on stage. It came from talking with them over dinner or visiting with them between sessions. They were simply people. Talented people, certainly, but people just like the rest of us.
While all of this was happening, I was working full-time for Southwestern Bell. Like many large companies, they occasionally brought in outside motivational speakers for management meetings and employee events. One day I was sitting in the audience listening to one of those speakers when I realized I actually knew him through the speaking community.
He was good. Very good.
As I listened, another thought quietly entered my mind. "He's really not any better than I am."
That wasn't arrogance. It was recognition. For the first time, I stopped putting professional speakers on a pedestal. More importantly, I stopped putting myself beneath them.
Someone once told me that we have far more power inside our organizations than we realize. Most companies give us more freedom than we think they do. Sometimes all it takes is initiative. Occasionally it even means asking for forgiveness later instead of waiting forever for permission.
That idea stayed with me.
Instead of thinking of myself as an employee who happened to enjoy public speaking, I began thinking of myself as a speaker who happened to work for Southwestern Bell. My job hadn't changed, but my identity had. Once that happened, I started looking for opportunities that had always been there.
I began creating presentations on topics I cared about. Leadership. Attitude. Personal growth. One of my favorite presentations was called The Four Ds to Success. The idea was simple: Decide what you want. Declare it by setting goals and sharing your commitment. Do the work required to make it happen. Then Delight in your accomplishment before beginning the process again.
I wasn't assigned to teach those ideas. My manager didn't tell me to develop them, and there wasn't a corporate program waiting for me to join. I simply believed they could help people, so I offered to share them with employee groups, departments, and organizations throughout the company.
One invitation led to another. A department manager would hear the presentation and recommend it to someone else. Soon I was speaking during lunch-and-learn sessions, department meetings, leadership gatherings, and employee events. As long as I fulfilled my regular responsibilities, no one objected. In fact, people appreciated it because the presentations encouraged employees and gave them practical ideas they could use.
Looking back, I realize I wasn't waiting for an opportunity anymore. I was creating opportunities.
That lesson has stayed with me ever since. I've written books, served in leadership positions, led organizations, and now spend much of my time telling stories. None of that began because someone officially appointed me to be a speaker. It began because I finally believed that speaking wasn't just something I enjoyed doing. It was part of who I was.
I think many of us underestimate the influence we already have. We wait for a promotion before we lead, for a title before we contribute, or for someone else's approval before we share our gifts. More often than not, those opportunities are already within reach. They simply require us to take the first step.
The day I started calling myself a speaker wasn't the day my career changed. It was the day my thinking changed. Everything else followed.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
A Question to Consider
Where in your life are you waiting for permission that you could simply give yourself?