The Power of a Great Opener

Last week, I traveled to McAllen, Texas to teach public speaking.

In the days leading up to the workshop, I thought about how I would introduce myself to the participants. I don’t like reading my bio: I prefer to use one moment in time, one story, to introduce myself. It’s more memorable and more personal. But what could I say that would specifically connect with this group? I didn’t know anyone in the audience and it was my first trip to Texas.

In my hotel room, on the day of the workshop, somewhere between making a cup of coffee and brushing my teeth, I had it.

An hour later, I arrived at the conference room ready for my workshop. Nearly 100 people were there (at 8am on a Saturday morning!), all employees of a few locally-owned successful businesses. I made sure the room was ready, hooked up my lavaliere mike, and smiled at the audience.

I started my opening:

“My great grandmother had 8 brothers and sisters [pause]. The family story says they all left Poland at the beginning of the first World War. My great grandmother came to New York, where my family grew up.  The other siblings settled all along the Americas: Mexico, Cuba, Costa Rica, and Argentina [pause]. As I was preparing to come here this weekend, my father told me that the Cuban relatives had actually lived in McAllen for some time and might still be here. So although this is my first trip to McAllen, I feel very much at home.”

People smiled, they nodded, they liked it.

I finished my opening with, “I guess that’s a long-winded but authentic way of saying, ‘It’s nice to be here.’”

But there was more.

During a break, the young man who arranged the AV equipment came up to me and whispered, “What’s your family’s name?”

I gave him the name. He smiled brightly and said, “They live down the street from me! Do you want their phone number?”

That afternoon, I spoke to my great uncle on the phone for the first time.  His father was one of my great grandmother’s 8 siblings, and he provided all the details on his siblings, their children, and their children’s children. I could just see my own father, the family historian, exclaiming in delight at all the family data.

Unfortunately we never met in person. But we exchanged email addresses and promised to keep in touch. We might even “Friend” each other on Facebook.

When you share a personal story with the audience, you might feel like you risk looking too vulnerable. But vulnerability can help you connect with an audience, and sometimes you are rewarded with a more personal experience than you could have ever imagined.