OLE!! MY LIFE AS A PUBLIC SPEAKER

You already know I'm a trusts and estates attorney.  But I have another day job, and it's really cool.

I train financial advisors about sophisticated estate planning techniques. To all of you, that probably sounds pretty dull.  But I've been doing it for 20 years, and it's been an adventure. I've experienced countless ordinary moments that have made life extraordinary. 

Here are two highlights. 

1.  High Tech Hijinks.  I usually speak to big groups, on big stages, so I need a wireless microphone.  If you've ever seen one, a small microphone is connected to a little black box that clips onto some innocuous part of your clothing. I always wear a suit, and use the waistband of my skirt.   Simple enough.

Except one time.

I arrived backstage to get mic'd up, and, while looking me straight in the eye, the sound engineer told me to take off my skirt.  In his right hand was a roll of duct tape.  I immediately tried to assess the situation. There was no way I could take him down in my stiletto high heels. Plus it was dark back there.  If worse came to worst, (my) brains would have to overcome (his) brawn.  

"I have to duct tape this microphone receptor to your waist."  

So much for brains – I actually laughed in his face.  I think I also said something about this not being my first rodeo (appropriate, because I was in Dallas), and told him to give me the contraption so I could take care of things myself.  Then I told him he was a bad man and should go to confession.  Or I'd haunt him. 

I realized later that he probably could have electrocuted me while I was up on the stage.  He was, after all, controlling the voltage of the electrical unit attached to my body.  I must have scared him, however, with the whole bedevil thing.  All 5'3" of me. 

Speaking of problems with wireless microphones, I ran into another sticky situation a few years later.  It was a beautiful June day, and, overcome with Spring fever, I wore a glorious pink dress to my presentation.  How silly of me. No waistband.  I have to admit, for a brief nano-second, I thought about the duct tape solution.  But then I came to my senses.  Just as I was about to attach the black box receptor to a Manhattan-sized metal clip attached to the middle of my derriere, a total stranger offered me her belt.  Her sequined belt.  Now, I'm not a sequin gal, but it could have been made of roadkill, and I would have worn it.  Proudly.  

2.  What Happens In Vegas Stays in Vegas.   Sometimes life is all about juxtaposition.  Queue up a presentation I did in Las Vegas about 7 years ago.  Now you've got it.  

It all started routinely.  The audience was engaged.  My PowerPoints were flawless.  I'd settled into a rhythm.   Feeling relaxed, I decided to gaze out the large picture window to my left. Rarely do large conference centers have portals to sunlight, so I figured I'd better take advantage of the opportunity (news alert: it's always best to do things that make you feel less like a laboratory rat).  

Then I saw it. The huge sign on the building next door.  In full neon (with perhaps a bit of extra purple).

"Naked Bull Riding."

I started to laugh.  Out loud.  In the middle of a complex narrative about federal estate tax. Hundreds of confused faces stared back at me.  I laughed some more.  This was just too much fun.

I'm surprised no one bolted.  

Usually this type of thing happens early in a presentation, when a speaker freezes, then starts to sputter.  You all know what I mean.  Everything gets sickeningly silent, and it feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room.   Everyone in the audience is thinking the same thing: this poor soul has lost it.

In an effort to gain my composure (or what was left of it), I turned my attention to the gargantuan digital screen in the front of the room, and saw a diagram I'd drawn about the use of irrevocable trusts.  Fun, huh?  Instinctively, my brain clicked back into gear, and I resumed speaking into the microphone transmitting to the little black box clipped to my waistband.  Thankfully, I had remembered to wear a suit that day.  Although I wouldn't have needed it if I had been next door.  Riding.

So what is the moral of these stories?

Don't fall mindlessly into your daily routine.  Find the fun.  Choose to see the goodness where you can, and turn away from the bad without angst or bitterness.   It's up to you to live purposefully, with wild abandon (although not necessarily naked on a mechanical bull), and deliberate joy.  

Duct tape free.