I took part in a panel discussion at an event a few months ago. Despite my advanced years, I was nervous. Indeed, despite my advanced years, I'd never done anything like this before. The other panellists had written books, changed organisations, moved mountains (figuratively at least) and one belonged to a huge organisation with offices everywhere, consulting in far-flung places.
I was from a tiny consultancy, and had little but my academic background and a reasonable level of common sense to recommend me. I couldn't claim years of global projects, but I did have a good understanding of almost ALL the theory behind the debate, and some critical interpretations of said theories. Plus lots of feedback particularly from people in the public sector, to how the theory worked in practice.
I'd prepared, done some reading, honed my opinions and I bought a new dress.
The event went ok, I thought. I said some sensible things, some people agreed with me, some not. My partner, who attended the event to support me, said I'd done well.
The session was videod and when it was released, I watched it, trying not to cringe. I saw when I didn't answer the question from the audience, when I got pompous and into the rhetoric, when I looked too earnest. I also saw when I nailed my own personal views, saying them exactly as I wanted to, concisely and eloquently. So - by no means a ten out of ten performance, but ok. Maybe a seven.
As this was the first event of this type I'd been involved in, I anxiously waited for feedback and people wrote to me, saying they either agreed with or enjoyed my contribution.
Glowing in a muted kind of way, I assigned the experience to a box marked "worthwhile" and went on with life.
Some time later, I looked at a blog on the same topic. The comments that had been added to the blog mentioned the panel I'd been on. To my dawning distress, there were a number of comments that effectively dismissed the event that I'd been on, suggesting it was over hyped and self indulgent. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was weirdly hurt too, by these people who didn't know me, knew nothing of the preparation or the nervousness.
I was taken aback by the snide comments and the almost personal asides. They weren't even aimed specifically at me - but as I'd participated, I felt a large level of responsibility for the feedback on the event and spent a pretty fruitless half hour wondering how I'd managed to add to the negative view of the event. I managed not to pore over the video again.
This happened a few weeks ago. The very fact that I'm blogging about it now (and blogging about it at all!) probably says more about me than it does about the event, or the comments. But the experience did remind me of a few salutary lessons.
1. Putting your head abover the parapet increases your chances of getting shot at.
2. Those who try new things may well be applauded - but there's always someone ready with a gripe
3. Those who are never criticised probably haven't done much.
Of course, the million-dollar question is - would I do it again. Answer: definitely.
And yet another question is - if people can misjudge you, your actions, and your motives (and you have good intent) - are you doing the same to others? Answer: probably definitely.
Feedback, said a good friend of mine, is the breakfast of the Gods, a gift. Occasionally, as with gifts, you may like to exchange it. However, as with all gifts, the best way to receive them is with gracious thanks and a smile.
So now, having said all this, I'm off to grow a thicker skin and delete the video.
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