In between work and working out, I got lazy. I ordered sushi (delivery) from the place just down the street for me. They told me it’d get to me in 45 minutes; it was here in 15. The kindly middle-aged man knocked on my door as I was practicing my speech for my presentation on Monday. Loudly.
“Oh, you practicing,” he laughed as I opened the door with dried sweat on my shirt and hair piled on top of my head—generally looking like the total professional I am.
“Yeah, I am,” I admitted sheepishly. “Thanks for bringing it so quickly.”
“Yes, you very hungry after exercise.”
It must be State-the-Obvious Day. Nonetheless I mush-mouthed my way through the latter half of my presentation, shaking my head at how much longer it should probably be.
You see, the presentation slot is a whopping 90 minutes. 90 minutes on web marketing to a bunch of male, pale and stales who are probably hanging out in Vail for vacay. And because I’m from Iowa, I tend to measure time in distance. As in, 90 minutes is how long it would take to drive from my parent’s house to the city where I went to college. It’s not a long drive, but it sure is a long time to talk. Moreover, in the back of my head I’m wondering: Am I old enough for this? Qualified enough? I’m not saying I need to start partaking in any daily affirmations, but it does seem a little surreal to be almost three years out of college doing what I’m doing.
But happily and thankfully, I’m not in it alone. I’m sharing presentation duties with my good friend James. And with the foot and half height difference between us, if we bomb, at least the sheer sight of us will be entertaining. These are the things I think about when I fret about talking too fast, or, more seriously, what in the name of Bill Murray** I’m going to wear.
**So far James and I have successfully worked, The Fonz, Bill Murray, and Legos into our presentation. We should win the damn conference on that alone. And yes. It’s a competition.
[Jam of the Day]: Freedy Johnston, Bad Reputation