Colin Beveridge
in which I face up to my dragons, and don’t beat anyone up
It felt like I hadn’t moved for hours, except for the thumping of my heart against my ribcage. Short, shallow breaths. Stomach in knots, I inched my way across the room, quietly, desperately. Tiny steps, I told myself. Tiny steps.
Then, in one smooth, swift movement, I reached out and started to dial.
Talking to people terrifies me.
We moved about a lot when I was a kid, between places with diverse accents. However much effort I put into adopting the local way of talking, I was always the boy who talked funny. (Even now, I find that my accent changes depending on who I’m talking to.) Pretty early on, I associated talking with people as a very quick way to get myself noticed, and not in a good way, and I turned to books and sums, none of which ever mocked me.
“But you’re a folksinger, Colin,” you protest. “You go on stage in front of strangers and bare your soul, generally off-key.”
This is true. Come watch me play sometime. You’ll see that I can’t tap my feet to keep time because my legs are shaking, and that I either have my eyes closed or I’m looking fixedly at a point on the far wall. I’m on the edge of my own little terrified world up there.
Meeting people
So, going on a talking-to-people spree last weekend was a big deal. But guess what? None of them mocked me.
I ate brunch with the fantastic Kathleen Craig, in the middle of her enviable trip around Europe geeking out about feats of engineering. I had coffee with the amazing Ali Luke, pretending to be a grown-up writer sitting outside a cafe in Oxford.
I spoke with the ever-lively Laura Espinosa, as part of her drive to connect with as many of her twitter followers as are actual humans – if you’re not following her, you should be (she’s @thecopycorner). I spoke with the ever-lovely Linda Eaves, who is (I think) trying to put life coaching into plain English so that fools like me can understand.
And I made a discovery.
That good people – the kind of people who hang out in Customer Love – don’t get off on making other people feel small. That kind people hear your unfamiliar accent and ask where you’re from. And that most people aren’t monsters and are perfectly safe to talk to. They can even teach you things that aren’t in books.
If you want to say hi during the Customer Love challenge, I’d love to talk with you – I’m colinbeveridge on skype.
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thank you to your post it was very informative and well said. thanks. get back to me http://www.ionicchemistry.blogspot.com
thank you to your post it was very informative and well said. thanks. get back to me http://www.ionicchemistry.blogspot.com
thank you to your post it was very informative and well said. thanks. get back to me http://www.ionicchemistry.blogspot.com
thank you to your post it was very informative and well said. thanks. get back to me http://www.ionicchemistry.blogspot.com
Colin, I think we all talk funny. As someone that actually learned different dialects for acting, I find my problem is I lose my own authentic voice because I fall naturally into talking like the people I’m with. Sometimes, they think I’m mocking them. In actuality, I’ve just let go of myself to be more like them.
I think the more time we spend getting to know our customers, the more we learn that they are more like us than we care to admit sometimes… and we more like them.
Loved this post!
Thanks, Lisa!
I think we all _think_ we talk funny, but it’s another case of ‘no such thing as normal’.
It was very awesome to get to hang out with you some more — thanks for taking the initiative. 🙂
We moved once, when I was a kid, from Cambridge to Oxford. Might not sound like much of a change, but my hitherto-unremarked-upon accent suddenly became “posh”. I got to the point where I hated speaking to strangers because I was convinced they’d hate my accent and think I was posh and stuck-up.
First time I went to a blogging conference, I was shy of talking to anyone, though promptly realised that to Americans, I don’t sound posh, I just sound REALLY BRITISH. It’s a good thing, apparently…
It’s really, really tough to shake that perception of my voice, though. One of the reasons I rarely do any audio is because I’m scared of sounding “posh” — which isn’t my brand at all. 🙁
By the way, your voice sounds just great to me! Friendly, warm and down to earth, which is pretty much the impression I get from Flying Colours Maths. 🙂
The pleasure was mine!
I think LaVonne put her finger on it when she said you sound educated – you have a lovely voice, I think you should share it more :o) Again, people aren’t out to mock you, especially if you have good stuff to day. Which, of course, you do.
Funny isn’t it? We spend the first 18 or so year of our lives trying to avoid the wrong kind of attention and worrying what the mean girls will think. Then at some point it becomes completely unacceptable to be the mean kid. Then the challenge becomes learning to accept the attention.
Anyway- great post!
(If you ever feel embarrassed about your accent just talk to Americans. 90% can’t tell the difference between British accents. We think they’re all adorable)
Thanks, Deanna!
Right – certainly in many British schools, standing out (for any kind of reason) is seen as a bad thing, to the point that when someone pays you a compliment, you deny that it’s true rather than saying “thank you”.
I’ve found almost all of the Americans I know to be in the ‘nice accent, where are you from?’ school, rather than the ‘you ain’t from round here!’ type, and I’m grateful for it :o)
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Please do, Jennifer!
Thanks for your insightful comment – persuading yourself that nobody’s there to throw rotten veg at you is a tough battle!
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Thank you so much for this post, Colin. It is an honest and accurate description of the battles so many of us face in dealing with people (myself included).
I used to suffer badly from stage fright, especially as a musician. It took me years – really, years – to understand that my fear of performing was rooted in my pre-judging my audience. I assumed that they would not like me, and that they would not enjoy the music I was to share with them. I had no evidence for my opinion of my audience, but that didn’t matter. So performing became a torture, so much so that I stopped.
But once I dealt with my own twisted thinking, once I realised that people are basically good and just want to have fun and share in good things, I begn to realise the true joy of performing. And, gradually, I realised the joy of just talking and being with other people. People are funny. People are interesting. And just as you say, Colin, you can learn some really great stuff.
One of these days I’ll give you a call on Skype!
Dude! Every time I read something about you or by you, I find out something else that I like! But I’m not going to tell you what it is! lol – j/k! I didn’t know you were a singer! And I totally get the stage-fright thing, and I totally get the talking to people thing! I did today, my first recorded interview, in which I interviewed Johnny B. Truant (yes, the same one you beat up in your last post! lol) and I was so nervous I actually said in on the recording, and I plan to out myself by leaving it there for all to hear. And even tho I was nervous he was totally cool with it and let me stammer and think up questions on the spot, because I was not prepared, having been derailed from my progress for a week because my boy’s best friend died and he needed my support and then I got sick. But damn! I did it, and its like comradery when when I learn that someone else has that same crazy anxiety and was able to get thru it to have a awesome conversation!
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What a lovely, well-presented article. You know, my favorite conversations happen after “Where are you from?” I grew up in a house with guests from all over the globe. I learn SO much from people who did not grow up near me.
Thanks for the post.