Really playing the part
There is nothing in this world that scares me more than having to make a speech or perform in public.
Standing there in that Santa suit, I felt as though I were teetering on the edge of a great abyss – nowhere to run – nowhere to hide – only one way out. I hated myself for being so scared and timid. Why couldn’t I just be normal? What was wrong with me? Did other people experience this level of anxiety and dread?
I tried convincing myself that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If I could just get through the first few minutes, I might be able to pull it off. If I could last 5 minutes, I should be alright. It’s not like my body could keep up that level of anxiety for an hour. Eventually, it would work its way through my system and things would return to normal.
Instead of concentrating on the whole hour, I concentrated on the first 5 minutes. However, I had never been subjected to scrutiny for anymore than a few minutes at a time, so this was a big assumption.
Taking a few deep breaths, I stepped into the room full of people. I’m sure that everyone wondered what happened to my, “HO-HO-HO” voice. I was so nervous that I forgot Santa’s trademark line. Not only that, I couldn’t seem to look at anyone; I just kind of entered the room and avoided eye contact. Not a very friendly thing to do, but keep in mind that this was five years ago. I still had major issues with making eye contact back then.
I didn’t feel like Santa at all. I felt just like some guy that threw on a Santa suit, crashed a party, and then strolled around without saying a word – a mute Santa, if you will. Who was I kidding? This just wasn’t me. I didn’t have the ability to pull this off. I wanted to find a corner away from all the stares, but that wouldn’t be what Santa would do, and it certainly wasn’t what these people were expecting. I’m sure there would be little sympathy from anyone. “Hey, you wore the suit, you accept the responsibility.”
At that point, I felt pretty humiliated. Anything that happened from then on could not have possibly made things worse.
Now, I did have one fleeting thought that made me feel a little better about myself. I remember thinking that even though I was making a public spectacle of myself, and felt humiliated in every way possible, I was still standing there, living, breathing, and intact. My world hadn’t ended. I didn’t run away or drop dead - and for an instant, that felt good.
I just had to salvage what I could and survive the next hour. Yes, my entrance was unusual, but that didn’t mean I had to scrap the whole project. Besides, it could only go uphill from there.
I was very aware of everyone staring at me - most were smiling, and some had a bit of a puzzled look on their face. Their stares almost had some sort of physical power that forced my head towards the ground in order to avoid making eye contact with anyone.
I glanced over at the kids. They were smiling, whispering, and laughing - not in a bad way, but more of an excited, happy way. It was then that I knew I had a responsibility to try my best. I took a deep breath and bellowed out my best, “Ho-ho-ho.” To my own ears, that feeble attempt didn’t sound very jolly. It sounded scared, weak, shaking, and frail. This whole thing just wasn’t me. I didn’t have what it took, no matter how hard I tried.
Then something happened that, more or less, saved the day. I imagined how my uncle would have acted in the same situation. I imagined how he would have shook hands with everyone while bellowing out, “Merry Christmas” to the room. I imagined how he talked, walked, and interacted with everyone as if he himself led a double life as old St Nick.
The solution was simple: Just act. Act like Santa Clause. Who cares? It couldn’t possibly be any worse anyway.
Wouldn’t you know that once I assumed the role, things improved greatly? I was no longer Drew dressed in a Santa suit – I actually was Santa. That was the secret. That was why Uncle Carl did such a great job. He actually became Santa Clause.
The rest of the evening went a little better. I got through my gift and story-telling duties without a hitch. I seemed to have the undivided attention of all the kids and that’s what really mattered.
Yes, there were a few smart-assed comments from some of the adults, but that was to be expected – and for some reason, it didn’t bother me much at all.
One Response to “Really playing the part”
Very brave of you. We had karaoke at our work party this week… a part of me really wanted to try, as I have a pretty good voice. But in public it wavers and cracks and I knew I wouldn’t be able to perform.
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