The year is 2019.
It's the last Saturday of September, right before Covid
…when "social distancing" is just a term for avoiding your ex at a party.
I'm attending an annual event in downtown Rolla, Missouri to celebrate cultural diversity at our university.
Like any other place in the Midwest, Rolla downtown is like a zombie town... Where life moves ever so slowly that even the traffic lights take forever to change.
But today, the streets are buzzing with the chatter of thousands of students, faculty, and local attendees. It’s as if the entire town collectively decided to wake up from a zombie apocalypse and throw a party.
I, along with my friends, are setting up a booth to showcase a glimpse of Pakistani culture. I'm in charge of selling our traditional food items including our signature chicken biryani we cooked after pulling an all-nighter fueled by chai tea and sheer desperation.
In the hope to make a buttload of money...
Or at least enough to cover our caffeine addiction.
I'm greeting guests at the booth with joy and excitement like a cheerful Chuihuawa.
I'm feeling like the most outspoken and self-confident person ever.
I am silently celebrating that I'm no longer that socially awkward person who's always overwhelmed by fear of people.
But all my excitement and celebrations disappear the moment I see the university media team visiting each booth and interviewing everyone at the booth individually
...not as a group but ONE BY ONE.
To me, it's like visualizing the angels of death with a dagger in their hands slowly marching towards me while I'm waiting for my turn to depart from this world to the next.
Now I'm thinking about all the possibilities and scenarios to cheat my imminent death by embarrassment.
The strategy I come up with is to "act invisible"...
A skill I've been honing since childhood, right up there with my ability to avoid household chores. So how could I possibly fail at it?
I've got this!
“How have you found living in Rolla so far”, asked the reporter placing the mic in front of my face.
And it just hit me. I’m not invisible anymore. They can see me. Not only that, but they are also asking me questions.
I'm in full-on panic mode with butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. My brain hit the snooze button, and I freeze like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
My mind goes blank.
A fairly simple question is feeling like a deep philosophical question. A few seconds pass by which feels like eternity in the moment. I'm sweating bullets.
I'm trying to use all the cognitive power of my brain to come up with an acceptable meaningful response…
But I got nothing.
To make matters worse, this entire fiasco is being videotaped, destined to become a viral sensation on social media.
At last, I muster up all the courage and respond to the reporter for twenty long seconds.
But my response is nothing but plain gibberish...
A few broken words uttered in a weird sequence, making absolutely no sense.
After I'm done speaking, I slowly realize what just happened.
I find myself shaking and sweating with nervousness.
Now I'm feeling embarrassed.
I'm feeling humiliated.
My self-confidence shatters like broken glass on the kitchen floor and I’m left picking up the pieces.
I want to hide someplace so far and so dark that even I wouldn't be able to find myself.
It makes me realize I'm the most insecure and the least confident person in the entire gathering of thousands in downtown Rolla today.
But in that public humiliation, there lies a silver lining in the form of this realization and a burning desire to free myself from this crippling fear of public speaking.
And if it weren't for that incident, I wouldn't be standing here on this stage today.
Best,
Waqas - Head Speaking Anxiety Coach