Broadcasting

As I type this missive, I am sitting in front of a computer with a remote meeting application running, waiting for about thirty people to log in so I can lead their training session. There’s not much else I can do once I’ve cleared my desk of other work and with my computer tied up with the app and the hosting site and the presentation set. And I’m loath to really direct my mind to other work, since I’m afraid of repeating a past incident in which I worked while logged on and then accidentally shut down the wrong application just when it was time to begin jawing for my public.

  It’s sort of an odd thing, watching the participants gather. For the next hour plus change, they are reliant on me to bring them something of value. And the value is measured in the context of their worlds, not mine. And that scares the bejeesus out of me.

 I’ve sung before ten thousand (and fallen right off the stage in front of the same crowd wearing full high priest regalia – don’t ask), presented at conferences, taught classrooms full of fairly bright people. I’ve delivered eulogies for family members and others, sung for weddings and bar crowds and offered toasts as best man.

 None of those activities scares me as much as presenting in “synchronous remote learning” mode.

 Here’s the thing  - you can’t see the audience. The latest hosting sites and apps allow you to interact with your viewers to some extent but it’s not like having them in front of you. It’s really tough to read body language when you can’t, you know, see the bodies.  

 I can write to friends and strangers without being able to see them but talking in front of an invisible and largely mute audience is tough. Plus, there’s that thing about them expecting me to say something useful.

Hm-m-m…

 It’s a conundrum, is what it is.