My mother used to say that she could be summoned to appear before a firing squad, and all she’d worry about ahead of time was finding parking, and the bathroom.
Like mother, like son.
Except my mother never: sailed across the North Atlantic, drove a decrepit, ancient truck across the country in two days or rode a motorcycle over the Andes Mountains.
Still: When it comes to a business trip abroad: like mother, like son.
Next month I’m giving speeches at the European Parliament in Brussels, and also at the U.K. Speechwriters’ Guild conference in Oxford. (To that latter event, you should come and join! Organizer Brian Jenner calls it “speechwriting tourism.”)
I’m working on the speeches, which are updated variations on an essential theme I’ve introduced over 15 years in eight countries on four continents, plus the United Nations. So I’m working on the speeches, not worrying about them.
I’m worried about:
Travel arrangements, though they’ve already been meticulously made with the help of the host organizations and my colleague Benjamine Knight Barger, who is accompanying me to Oxford.
My wardrobe, though that’s already been sorted (as they say in England).
Tech problems, which are at once unlikely and largely out of my hands.
And the bathrooms, which I don’t even remember the names of in Belgium or England.
That’s because the last time I did a real speaking tour of that region, I was carrying a Flip video camera, and also sweating the small stuff …
But of course sweating the small stuff is what all serious speakers and speechwriters do, knowing that arriving on time, looking and feeling good—those are one pretty big part of the job. And the part you can’t utterly, completely control through writing, re-writing and rehearsal.
“Just be yourself,” the glib advice goes. Well, when you’re standing all alone at a lectern in a foreign capital, there is no “just” about it.
The old saying was, “Don’t sweat the small stuff—and it’s all small stuff.”
The new saying is, “Sweat the big stuff—and it’s all big stuff.”
Among the best advice I think I gave my speechwriting clients were a couple of small things: 1) polish your shoes, 2) (while it’s tempting to go racing up the steps and bounding onto the stage) use the handrail.
Mother knows best in this case. You’ll do great! My only concern for you is that you remember to look both ways when you cross the street after leaving the pub. If you don’t, you may end up sweating some really big stuff.