How to Speak to a Distracted Audience at Awards Events

They're drunk. You're speaking. Good luck.

Recently, a client of mine worked extraordinarily hard preparing a presentation for an awards event. 

The preparation was meticulous. The expectations were high. The nervous tension was palpable.

And so was the emotional investment.

For many speakers, these occasions are not simply about delivering a speech. They are a test of competence, credibility and sometimes, rather dangerously, self-worth.

And therein lies the problem.

That is the experience of the speaker.

The audience, meanwhile, is having an entirely different experience.

They have come to collect an award, recover from the disappointment of not collecting one, network with colleagues or perhaps drown the suspense in a raspberry juice. Or ten.

By the time my client reached the stage, the audience was in full flight.

People were calling out. Others were glued to their phones. And one particularly enterprising gentleman in the third row had taken to making paper aeroplanes out of napkins and launching them across the room.

Wonderful.

Nothing quite says "we value your contribution" like a low-flying serviette.

Now, I have been on both sides of this fence, and I am afraid this is the reality of certain events.

The audience has not necessarily come to listen. They have come to celebrate. And after several hours of food, drink, speeches and suspense, their capacity for polite attention may have disappeared somewhere between the main course and the third bottle of shiraz.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: An audience does not owe you its attention simply because you have worked hard.

We are not taught how to be good audience members. And while I would dearly love to institute compulsory audience etiquette classes, I suspect that may be beyond my sphere of influence.

There are, however, two things we can control.

What event organisers do.

And what speakers do.

First, a word to conference organisers

Since COVID, I have watched an interesting decline in the investment in professional speaking.

Budgets have been redirected, and we have seen a parade of cheaper alternatives: internal speakers, endless interviews, panels and presenters selected because they happen to be available rather than because they can hold a room.

Now, some of these people are excellent.

Many are not.

And the audience knows the difference.

My first piece of advice? Pay for professional speakers.

There is a reason professional speaking is a profession. Holding the attention of 500 people, reading the room, managing energy, handling interruptions and making complex ideas memorable is a skill.

It is not simply a matter of standing upright and having something to say.

As the old saying goes, you get what you pay for.

Secondly, can we please reconsider our obsession with panels?

I know. They look wonderful on the program. Four impressive names, a moderator and the promise of fascinating discussion.

Unfortunately, too often we get five people sitting in comfortable chairs agreeing with one another while the audience quietly contemplates its own mortality.

Panels can be excellent in smaller, interactive settings or when participants are skilled, provocative and genuinely disagree.

But on a large conference stage? Unless the people involved are exceptionally good, they can be an expensive exercise in collective unconsciousness.

And thirdly, consider what your event actually needs.

Does an awards dinner really need another keynote?

Or would a professional comedian, entertainer, or cleverly designed act serve the occasion better?

There is no shame in entertainment. There is considerable shame in pretending people are ready for intellectual enlightenment when they are three glasses into the chardonnay and waiting for dessert.

Now, to the speakers

If this happens to you, congratulations.

You have just received one of the most valuable lessons in professional speaking.

Preferably, you would receive it early in your career, but life is not always that considerate.

Here are five things to remember.

1. You have to earn attention.

Given half a chance, audiences will demonstrate just how difficult it is to capture and hold their attention.

Your brilliant content is not enough.

You need structure, variety, energy, connection and the ability to change direction when the room changes.

This experience may be precisely what makes you a better speaker next time.

2. Bring out your biggest presence.

When the audience is distracted, the temptation is to retreat. To become smaller, quieter and more apologetic.

Wrong.

This is when you need your strongest physical and vocal presence.

Stand with purpose. Use your gestures deliberately. Work your voice. Use silence intelligently.

You cannot compete with a rowdy audience by becoming more timid.

Nor, incidentally, by shouting at them like an angry schoolteacher.

You need gravitas.

3. Love the audience anyway.

This is perhaps the hardest lesson of all.

Don't turn on them.

Don't become offended, sarcastic or visibly frustrated.

Maintain a generous mindset. People are not necessarily bad or deliberately disrespectful. They may simply be having a wonderful time at an event that is entirely different from the one you imagined.

It's a party. It's a laugh. It's a giggle.

And you have wandered into the middle of it with a PowerPoint presentation.

Keep your warmth. Keep your humour. Keep your perspective.

4. Know how to finish early.

This is a professional skill that deserves far more attention.

If the room is lost, you need to know how to cut your material without looking defeated.

Find a natural point of closure. Deliver your strongest message. Finish with authority.

Never simply trail away, apologise profusely or storm off in a huff.

There is an art to leaving the stage while you still have your dignity.

And preferably before the next napkin aircraft takes flight.

5. Don't take it personally.

This is the big one.

One difficult audience does not define you.

One unsuccessful presentation does not end your career.

And the behaviour of a roomful of distracted people is not a referendum on your intelligence, expertise or personal worth.

Learn what you can. Laugh at what you must. And let the rest go.

Because the greatest danger in these situations is not the audience.

It is the story you tell yourself afterwards.

The final word

I often say that communication is not what you say. It is what the other person receives.

And that principle becomes brutally apparent when the other person is three wines down, checking their phone and constructing an aeroplane from a dinner napkin.

For event organisers, the lesson is to design for the audience you actually have, not the audience you wish you had.

For speakers, it is to develop the skills to meet that audience where they are.

And for everyone else?

Perhaps save the aviation experiments until after the speeches.

Gravitas is not about commanding a perfectly behaved room. It is about maintaining your authority when the room is anything but perfect.

And if you need more help, Louise is now Mc'ing.