Zzzzziiipppp.
I’d split my trousers in the church
hall.
It happened as I bent down to
lift up a DVD player from the floor. I’d just delivered a boringly tedious
presentation on Civil Defence to a group of about fifty who had come in for a
soup kitchen lunch. The ‘Zzzzziiipppp’
resounded among the rafters like an incoming cruise missile. Startled, my
audience and I gazed at each other for fully ten seconds, before, red faced
with embarrassment, I sidled off stage with my backside firmly pointed to the
wall.
Those ten seconds was the only
time I had the full attention of my audience. I knew I’d failed them and myself
because I hadn’t done my homework beforehand.
My host, a lay Minister, grinned,
patted me soothingly on the shoulder. A couple of wicked looking safety pins
were found to repair the damage. ‘Come join us for lunch,’ he invited. ‘You can
sit on these cushions.’
He then proceeded to say a few
words to the assembly before we all sat down to share lunch together. He spoke
softly and eloquently, his voice soothing and encouraging. He spoke about how
fortunate we were to have such an abundance of food, the warmth of our family
and friends, the importance of our hopes for a brighter future and how
budgeting might help us achieve our aspirations. His message was inspirational.
His audience totally captivated.
Later I congratulated him and
asked if he had ever considered writing down and publishing his marvelous presentations.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘This group is my only audience. Have been for years. These are
my parishioners. I know each of them by name.’
‘But you spoke so well,’ I
protested. ‘I’m sure there are others who would be interested to hear you and
could benefit from your message. You obviously know your local audience very well
but have you ever researched your wider market?’
Of course he hadn’t and didn’t
know where to start. We went to his
office and fired up his computer.
We did a simple search of his
church’s parish membership and then to his church’s global membership. The
results were startling. From 150
parishioners to 100 million people world wide.
‘There you are,’ I exclaimed
triumphantly. ‘You can inspire lunchtime gatherings around the world and you
don’t even have to know their names. ’
He was astonished. ‘Fancy that,’
he mused shaking his head in disbelief. ‘100 million people. eh … well, well,
well …’ He looked up, nodded and smiled. ‘This research thing might be worth a
shot.’
I grinned back. I liked the
notion that the noise of my splitting trousers might reverberate globally and
lead to the inspiration of 100 million people. Not all had been lost that day
after all.
Rodney ‘Badger’ Dearing