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Why Your Public Speaking Training is Probably Making You Worse

The microphone feedback screech that haunts every corporate presentation wasn't what finally broke me. It was watching another perfectly competent manager butcher a quarterly review because they'd been taught to "picture the audience in their underwear."

Absolute rubbish, that advice. Always has been.

After seventeen years of watching people transform from articulate professionals into sweating, rambling disasters the moment they step behind a podium, I've got some opinions about public speaking training that might ruffle a few feathers. And honestly? Good. The industry needs a shake-up.

Here's the thing most trainers won't tell you: traditional public speaking courses are designed for people who were already decent speakers. They take someone with natural confidence and polish their technique. But for the other 87% of us—the ones who'd rather reorganise filing cabinets than address a room—these courses are about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

I learnt this the hard way during my early consulting days. Spent three grand on a weekend intensive that promised to "unlock my inner orator." Two days of breathing exercises, power poses, and visualisation techniques later, I was still a nervous wreck. Worse, actually. Now I was a nervous wreck who knew exactly how badly I was failing according to "best practice."

The real breakthrough came when I stopped trying to be someone else.

Stop Trying to Channel Steve Jobs

Every public speaking course seems obsessed with turning you into some sort of TED Talk superhero. Stand like this, gesture like that, pause for exactly 2.3 seconds after your opening line. It's manufactured authenticity, and audiences smell it from the back row.

I work predominantly with trades professionals and small business owners across Melbourne and Brisbane, and you know what works better than any technique? Being genuinely yourself, just louder and clearer. The best speaker I ever coached was a plumber from Geelong who started every presentation with "Right, let's talk about why your pipes are probably stuffed." No fancy opening, no motivational quote—just honest expertise delivered with conviction.

Here's where I'll probably lose some readers: I think nervous energy is an asset, not a problem to solve. Those sweaty palms and racing heart? That's your body telling you this matters. Channel it. Use it. Don't try to meditate it away with some breathing technique you'll forget the moment you see the audience.

The Three Things That Actually Matter

Forget the power poses. Ignore the advice about eye contact patterns. Here's what separates effective speakers from the rest:

Know your stuff inside out. Not just the main points—know the tangents, the follow-up questions, the real-world applications. When you're genuinely expert in your topic, confidence follows naturally. I've seen technical specialists who couldn't order coffee without stuttering become commanding presenters the moment they talked shop.

Have something worth saying. Revolutionary concept, I know. But most corporate presentations are 30 minutes of padding around 5 minutes of actual content. Audiences aren't stupid. They know when you're filling time with inspirational quotes and stock photos of handshakes.

Practice the mechanics, not the performance. Work on projection, pacing, and structure. Forget about charisma—that's either there or it isn't. Focus on being heard, understood, and organised.

The thing that really gets me wound up is how many courses focus on managing anxiety instead of building competence. It's backwards thinking. You don't become less nervous by learning relaxation techniques—you become less nervous by becoming genuinely good at something.

Where Most Training Goes Wrong

I've audited dozens of public speaking programs over the years (occupational hazard of the training industry), and they all make the same fundamental error: they assume everyone learns the same way. Visual learners get told to imagine success. Analytical types get handed emotional intelligence frameworks. Introverts get pushed into extroverted behaviours that feel completely unnatural.

Take conflict resolution training—another area where one-size-fits-all approaches fall flat. Some people need structure and scripts; others work better with principles and flexibility. Same with public speaking. Some speakers thrive on detailed preparation; others need room to improvise.

The worst advice I ever received was to "make it conversational." Have you tried having a conversation with 200 people? It's impossible. What they meant was "make it feel conversational," which is completely different. That requires understanding rhythm, pacing, and audience dynamics—skills that take years to develop, not a weekend workshop.

The Australian Advantage

One advantage we have here is that Australian audiences are pretty forgiving. We don't expect polish—we expect authenticity. Americans might want inspiration; Germans want precision; but Australians just want to know you're not taking yourself too seriously.

I remember coaching a CEO who'd spent years trying to perfect an American-style corporate speaking style. All gravitas and motivational messaging. Complete disaster. Soon as he started talking like himself—admitting mistakes, making self-deprecating jokes, acknowledging when things were genuinely challenging—his staff started actually listening.

The Stuff They Don't Teach You

Real public speaking competence comes from understanding your audience's unspoken questions. Every technical presentation has someone thinking "How much will this cost?" Every motivational speech has someone wondering "What's the catch?" Address the subtext, not just the content.

Learn to read the room in real-time. Slides 5-8 losing people? Skip ahead. Audience more engaged than expected? Slow down, go deeper. Most speakers stick rigidly to their planned material regardless of how it's landing. Flexibility beats perfection every time.

And here's something controversial: sometimes the best thing you can do is admit you're nervous. "I'm a bit nervous about this presentation, but the topic's too important not to discuss" disarms audiences immediately. They're on your side now, not judging your performance.

What Works in Practice

The most effective time management training I've delivered started with me admitting I was chronically disorganised. Built credibility immediately—they knew I understood their struggles. Same principle applies to public speaking.

Start with your expertise, not your presentation skills. If you're talking about workplace safety, lead with your twenty years on construction sites, not your communication course certificate. Audiences connect with experience, not training credentials.

Practice in low-stakes environments. Volunteer to give updates at team meetings. Offer to explain new processes to colleagues. Build comfort with being the person talking while others listen. The formal presentation skills can come later.

The Reality Check

Here's what no training course wants to admit: some people will never be great public speakers. And that's perfectly fine. You don't need to be Winston Churchill to communicate effectively in business. You just need to be clear, prepared, and genuine.

The goal isn't to become a professional speaker—it's to stop letting communication anxiety limit your career progression. Big difference.

Most of us just need to get competent enough that speaking up in meetings doesn't trigger fight-or-flight responses. That's achievable for everyone, regardless of natural ability or personality type.

The best speaker development happens on the job, not in workshops. Take opportunities when they arise. Volunteer for presentations. Offer to train new staff. Each experience builds genuine confidence in a way that role-playing exercises never can.

Bottom Line

Public speaking training has overcomplicated something that should be straightforward: sharing information clearly with groups of people. Strip away the performance anxiety, focus on the fundamentals, and remember that your expertise matters more than your stage presence.

Your audience wants you to succeed. They're not hoping you'll stumble—they want to learn something useful. Meet that expectation, and everything else becomes secondary.


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