Early in my career, I was escorting Blake Shelton through the backstage stairwells of a convention center. We had brought him in for a trade-show activation, where he would host a Pictionary-style game we’d invented for the occasion.
As we walked, I started explaining the game. The rules, what was going to happen, all the things I thought he needed to know. He stopped me.
“If you’re going to feed me a bowl of [expletive], just give it to me one spoonful at a time.”
Fair enough!
“First, we’re going to get to the top of the stairs and I’ll escort you across the tradeshow floor to backstage at the booth.” Once we got there, “Here’s who will introduce you.” And so on.
I had been giving him the whole route when all he wanted to know was the next turn.
What does someone actually need in the minute before they go on?
Someone about to walk onstage already has plenty going on in their head. They may be reviewing a section of their script, worrying about their slides, or preparing to say something in public they’ve never said before. You can know exactly how the show works and still not give them what they need.
I think about that exchange with Shelton when I’m working with speakers. Being a stage manager for TED Talks and other high-pressure situations has given me a lot of practice helping people through those moments. But you don’t need a stage to find yourself beside someone for whom the next few minutes feel enormous.
Helping takes empathy applied to very practical decisions: what to tell them, when to tell them, when to buy them time, and when to change what you’re doing because they need something else. You have to understand what they can handle in that moment and take responsibility for the things you can take off their plate.
That’s what I mean by making doomsday feel like a Tuesday (sorry Moana). The stakes may still be enormous. You can help make the next step feel manageable.
Make the Unfamiliar Easier to Navigate
When I’m orienting a speaker, I try to think through the space from the position they’re about to occupy.
Where will they stand before the entrance? What will they hear as their cue? How long is the walk from the top of the stairs to the center of the stage? Will the music carry them all the way there, or are they going to feel like they need to jog to keep the entrance from getting awkward?
Once they’re out there, where are the lights coming from? Where will they find their current slide, their notes and the countdown timer?
These are familiar details to the people running the show. A speaker encountering them for the first time has to figure them out while also doing the thing everyone came to watch.
Whenever possible, I want to give them a quick tech-through beforehand. Even speakers who have very little interest in rehearsing tend to want to see the stage and feel the space. If we haven’t had that opportunity, I’ll talk them through what to expect before they walk out.
Shelton’s lesson applies here, too. You have to pay attention to whether the person can hear what you’re saying, whether they’re distracted, and which information is useful at that moment. An orientation should give them fewer things to wonder about as they take the stage.
The same care helps whenever you’re guiding someone through a situation you know better than they do. Walk through what will happen and what they’ll be asked to do from their point of view. Familiarity makes it easy to forget how much you once had to figure out.
Make Them The Priority
At a climate event, Al Roker, America’s Weatherman, was about to walk out when his note cards hit the floor. There were something like 25 cards scattered backstage, and the host was already introducing America’s Weatherman.
We were down there with flashlights, gathering cards and trying to get them back in order. I was signaling to the host to stretch the introduction, while reassuring Al that we were going to get this right backstage before he went out. The transition might be awkward, but people would forget about it once he got started.
(I love seeing a speaker bring note cards. Use the tools that help you. I also strongly recommend numbering them and putting them on a ring.)
But once the cards are on the floor, the speaker needs someone who can deal with the show on their behalf. We tell speakers we’re their liaison: if they need something, come to us. That includes going to bat for them when the timing gets uncomfortable.
Keeping the show moving is part of my job. In that moment, I was willing to let the transition get stretched so Al could go out ready.
His needs came ahead of making the show look seamless. Being his advocate meant making that call with the host and making sure Al knew he could take the time.
Sometimes helping means taking on an inconvenience so the person under pressure has one less thing to manage. If you can handle the waiting people or the awkward pause, they can concentrate on getting themselves ready. That’s a practical way to make someone the priority.
Listen for What They Actually Need
I was working in a TV Studio, getting folks ready to record a presentation live to tape with a studio audience. This was part of a fundraiser and one speaker was preparing to share something deeply personal in public for the first time. The room was small, but the people in it could change the trajectory of her work as a social entrepreneur. That work grew out of the personal history she was about to talk about.
Moments after walking on camera, she went blank. She couldn’t get through it. When she came offstage, she wasn’t sure what had happened.
The show producer encouraged her and reminded her how strong she was. As I listened, it became clear that she knew her material. She was panicking and needed help settling herself enough to deliver it.
I was also acting as show director, and I pulled her aside so we could do some breathing and body exercises. We worked on calming down and getting her back into focus. She went back out and delivered two extraordinary takes in a row. Afterward, she wasn’t sure she’d done well. The rest of us were practically in tears.
You have to listen closely enough to understand what kind of help someone needs, and be willing to adjust. I could have talked her through the presentation, but she already knew what she wanted to say. Recognizing that gave us a way to work on what was actually getting in her way.
Before you offer someone more instructions, find out whether they need information at all. They may already know exactly what to do and need a moment, some space, or someone willing to stay with them while they get ready to do it.
What You’re Bringing
There’s one more person whose state you have to pay attention to: your own.
If you’re distracted by a problem somewhere else, worrying about how far behind schedule you are, or rushing through the interaction, the person you’re helping can feel that. Now, along with everything they’re carrying, they have your unease to deal with.
The calm, connected confidence you bring is something they can draw on. That deserves the same care as whatever practical help you offer. In the moments when you’re with them, you need to be with them.
Because when you’re helping someone through their bowl-full, the last thing they need is for your stress to be one more spoonful.