My name is Dr. Martin Travis, Mart to my friends, and
I am Project Director at Xantia Pharmaceuticals, near High Wycombe. I had had a
rotten trip to Marbirch. The train connection was late leaving London and this
put me behind schedule, but I did have an opportunity to go over my lecture
notes for my talk this evening. The taxi from the station took me the short
journey from the railway station to the venue, an old looking Victorian style
building. In the late evening sunlight just before dusk the white frontage
looked as though it had recently been painted and the outside appeared to be
well maintained much like the gardens, now with the flowering borders in full
bloom. It looked lovely and this served to cheer me up a little. I would be the
first to admit that I was nervous. Tonight, I was standing in for one of my
Project Managers who had been taken ill quite suddenly only two days ago.
As I entered the complex,
there were two young women, girls really, chatting away in the way girls do.
Talking excitedly about a party.
"Are you going to
Pamela's party on Saturday night, Sharon?" the dark haired girl had asked.
"You bet," responded
Sharon. "You should know by now, Angela, I wouldn't miss that for
anything. You know how good they are. I don't know how Pammy knows so many
blokes, but it's the place to meet new people."
"Good evening, ladies. I
am Dr. Martin Travis and I am here to deliver the talk tonight. Can you please
show me where I can prepare myself."
They broke off their
conversation when I spoke. Even without the benefit of shoes, I am almost 6'
4" tall. I am somewhat thin with a sallow complexion. I must have looked
like Dracula because when they turned, they couldn't hide their surprise. Even
shock.
One of the girls, Angela she
said her name was, took me down to a dimly lit area that housed the dressing
rooms. This underground area was quite spooky especially in the gloom. We chatted
about the local area and I asked if she was looking forward to the party on
Saturday night. She had looked puzzled and a little anxious until I said that I
had overheard some of their conversation when I arrived. She smiled pleasantly
and said that she was. A very amiable young lady was Angela and for a very
brief while I had forgotten about my nervousness.
The dressing room that I had
been shown into may have been, and probably still is, a performer's dressing room.
It was adorned with the old style lightbulbs surrounding the mirror, which gave
it a very dated look. The paintwork on the walls was a little shabby, but it
did somehow go well with this old building. It had real character and I liked
it. I thanked Angela and she left.
When I had said to
"prepare myself" it was really a private joke, although I wasn't
laughing. I really had to prepare myself. I was absolutely terrified about this
forthcoming presentation. The countdown had started a long while ago, but it
was only about an hour to go now.
I recalled seventeen years earlier and my very
first oral presentation. I have always felt that this was a near disaster. I
had felt that the talk had gone well, but I had ended feeling very bothered about
what people had thought of it all. I can clearly remember it as though it were
yesterday, me feeling very self-conscious and not really concentrating on what
I was saying. It was only because I was well prepared that I carried it off
reasonably well. At least that's what I'd hoped. I couldn't help myself
thinking about what people may have been thinking. What they thought of me.
Standing there. My appearance still does not inspire people. I know that much.
The feedback at the time was quite positive, but nobody would mention the
delivery of my presentation and I was reluctant to ask in case I heard what may
have confirmed my fears.
Peter Maybury knocked at my
door and was the host who would introduce me. We went over the details of my
backgound to check the accuracy of the information and when we had satisfied
ourselves that this was all correct, Peter left me alone with my thoughts.
I checked my watch. Only half
an hour to go. An age. Not far enough away to forget and too close to ignore. I
must have rechecked my watch every minute over the next twenty minutes. Only ten minutes to go. I used the
toilet. I just knew I'd need the toilet half way through my talk! I collected
my notes and went towards the stage. Angela had pointed out the way I should go
when we had come down to the basement area. Was this really only an hour ago?
Peter Maybury met me at the
stage door and my watch showed it was almost time to begin my presentation. I
am a stickler for good punctuality. Never arrive early as it could be interpreted
as I hadn't much else to do. Or arrive late: poor organisation skills. Just on
time. We crossed the stage to the lectern that seemed a mile away and I counted
each step of the way. Twelve of my long strides. I must have looked like a
nodding donkey with my shoulders and head pushed forwards presenting my usual
posture. I don't inspire people with this. I know I don't. I knew I wasn't
smiling and I probably looked really miserable. I felt miserable. I knew all
this, but I still couldn't raise my mood to the occasion.
My host introduced me and this
was met with warm applause. I was certain that this was just formal courtesy. I
hoped that all the slides had been loaded and set up properly. They had been
brought down that morning by the technical crew and had been handed over by
Andrew, the Project Manager, earlier in the week before he had been taken ill.
I knew Andrew was efficient and thorough and I had little to worry about here.
But worry I did. I worried a lot. My lateness at the venue caused by the delay
in London left me no time to run through the slideshow. Just to check. And I
didn't like being late even though it could not have been prevented. My panic
was on the increase!
The clock above the door to
the bar area showed that I should begin. I had centre stage and a packed
auditorium for sixty minutes. One hour. My mouth wouldn't work. My worst nightmare was coming
true. Almost as a self-fulfilling prophesy, I had frozen as I'd seen myself do
in my imagination many times before. I had this nearly overwhelming desire to
run, but my legs wouldn't work either. At least I didn't fall over! My mouth
refused to open and even if it did I was sure that only hot air would come out.
Dracula breathing hot air. What a picture. And this was all I could see right
now. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Standing on stage in front
of several hundred people each one of them highly respected in their field. I
was hot and my mouth terribly dry. I felt very uncomfortable.
Five seconds ticked by. I was sure
I could hear the clock ticking in the deafening silence of the auditorium. I
felt sick. I grew hotter and became very aware that I must look ridiculous. I
was getting more flustered and embarrassed and I hadn't done anything yet. Project Director of Xantia Pharmaceuticals and rooted to
the ground in terror.
Nothing!
Ten seconds had gone by. I was
getting even hotter under the bright lights and the audience seemed to have
dissolved into that brightness. If only I could dissappear like that. Not
likely from my position in front of everyone on the stage and under these stage
lights. Although I couldn't see the audience anymore I knew they were there.
Several hundred people all waiting expectantly. I felt absolutely terrible.
Fifteen seconds now. Only 15 seconds!
I had been standing on stage for 15 seconds and it seemed an age. Looking
stupid. Doing nothing. Saying nothing. I wasn't looking at anything in
particular and I was not aware of seeing anyone. But they were there. All of
them. Hundreds of eyes looking at me. Me! Oh no! There goes that nervous twitch
near my right eye again. It must be noticed as though I am waving my arms about
saying; "Look at me. Twitcher Travis!"
Twenty seconds gone by. I had become
aware of the audience beginning to murmur and this made me feel worse. I
reached for the glass jug in front of me and poured out some water. Did my hand
shake much? I didn't spill any water.
Then, remarkably, I remember
it all happened in almost flash. Literally a dawning. I am amazed that I could
have reasoned so much in such a short time - just a few seconds. It was as
though I knew this argument already and didn't really need to work through it.
It just happened. It felt as though I'd opened that locked door that never
seemed to budge. A recurring nightmare that wouldn't go away had left me. Gone.
People had come tonight to hear me. Our research is good and sound. My
knowledge is good. I know my subject and I had developed the original idea. I
am directing it, aren't I? I no longer felt self conscious. I don't remember
feeling anything. I wasn't conscious of thinking about anything but why I was
here. My sense of focus had returned. I was here to give a talk. And it would
be a good talk. I was thinking in a way that only a few minutes ago I thought
was no longer possible.
Twenty six seconds and I was calm.
Twenty seven seconds and I felt good. I
felt really good. The murmurings had increased in crescendo to what seemed
almost a shout. I am sure I heard somebody call out: "Get on with it,
Travis!"
Twenty eight seconds gone. I remember
myself thinking that even though it's early days in the project, some prototype
compounds had been synthesised and results were so far encouraging. We had
established the proof of concept.
Twenty nine seconds now. The project is
looking good. Very good. And I am getting the funding I need. Why am I
worrying? These people wouldn't be here, would they? To hear about the new
research area of mood control. To hear the arguments in support of my theories.
My theories. Mimicking natural products that boost mood.
A sip of water. A quick cough
to clear my moistened throat. This seemed almost designed to wake up the
audience since the loud murmurings were silenced by it.
Thirty five seconds.
"Mood. Something that
affects us all." I had started. "I will describe the outline of our
project, where we are now and hope to be in six months."
The hour was almost gone and I
felt elated. Not because my time was nearly up, but because I was really
enjoying myself. I could scarcely believe it. Actually enjoying myself. I must
allow time for questions though the wine mixer afterwards would provide ample
time for the more interesting questions. I never used to like socialising after
this type of event, but tonight was different. I was going to enjoy it and I
looked forward to it.
The presentation went without
a hitch. The slideshow was perfect and used some really innovative ideas that
worked exceptionally well. I must remember to congratulate Andrew on his
slideshow. First class. I walked off-stage in the wake of loud applause and I
felt a little embarrassed though now for a very different reason than when I
last felt this way. I could feel my head held high and I felt as though I stood
seven feet tall with my back held straight and shoulders no longer angled
forward. I could feel the beaming smile across my face and a bouncing lift to
my gait.
The applause was evidence
enough that the audience liked what I had talked about. Liked me? I had made
quite a few spontaneous jokes as my talk developed and they had been received
with laughter.
While I was talking with a
colleague at the wine mixer afterwards, he said:
"I thought you'd lost it,
though I am sure nobody noticed as it appeared to be part of the opening
gambit. Tell me - was it deliberate because I am not sure myself. Is there a
magic first compound already? It's as though you'd taken a sample! Anyway, it
really worked well and your timing was magnificent."
That half a minute's silence
had seemed like an age and it was! I had aged from being a scared and nervous
kid to something more fitting with my position. I am a professional and all I
had done was let myself go. To risk it. Chance it. I realised I'd forgotten
how. To behave like a kid, but moderated by the maturity and experience of a forty
seven
year-old adult. Is that the real secret? Not just familiarity with a subject.
There's more to it than that, surely. But it seems like there's not all that
much more at all. Just let go. Sounded simple.
Yes. I'd lost it. My nervousness
and my fears had evaporated. I seem to have lost that irritating twitch near my
eye too. So it seemed as though I'd taken a sample of our own research efforts,
did it? There isn't a compound in a clinical trial yet, perhaps none is needed.
It would be best to keep that to myself!
The roar of applause from
within the auditorium signalled the next busy period as the auditorium doors
burst open and the audience poured out in a very excited mood. Now that it was
time for the wine mixer the cocktail waitresses started to mingle with their
trays of drinks.
Later that evening, Sharon was
overheard asking Angela "Who's the dishy guy at the centre of that group
over there?"
Angela answered: "He's the
chap who gave the talk. Remember Dracula? Miserable old stoopy?"
"Never!" She gasped.
© Louis Brothnias (2005)