When I was in a leadership training course, the lecturer asked us to consider how we could better our community in light of the present covid19 problems. It might be anything from urging folks to keep their distance in social situations to wearing masks and exercising more frequently. He encouraged individuals to get up and express their opinions after five minutes of silence, during which everyone thought about the subject separately. As a result, there was complete silence. There was no one willing to volunteer. We tried to avoid making eye contact with the instructor by looking away. After several failed attempts to obtain a speaker, the instructor finally gave up and began the debriefing of the session. It was a moment of self-reflection that the students in the class were attending a leadership training course, but no one chose to speak up and lead. When asked why they didn’t speak up, some stated they were afraid of misinterpreting the presentation topic, some said they didn’t know what to say, and others indicated they were bashful. It was an opportunity to take a stand, speak up, and put my leadership talents to the test. Still, I didn’t seek out the instructor to clarify the topic because I was too isolated; I didn’t fully utilize all of the available resources, such as books, because I was too remote. I didn’t put theory into practice when it came to leadership. Ironically, we aspire to be leaders but are hesitant to lead.

If I could go back in time, I would raise my hands, prepare my speech, and take the stage to give my presentation. I should have realized that the audience would most likely forget what I said in that pitch. Regardless of what awful thing I said in that seminar, we may never see each other again. Every day, humans lose the majority of their memories. I’ve already forgotten over 80% of what the instructor said; I have no recollection of how he looks, and I’m sure I’ll not be able to recognize those crowds today. That was a shame because my original goal in attending the leadership training course was to broaden my professional network by meeting new people. Although we lived so near each other, we rarely spoke. Instead of always wondering if I look stupid, if I had a second chance, I would be more serious about preparing the speech, raise my hands, offer my ideas like a pro, and participate in the conversation. I believe I had excellent views than others in the room, but I didn’t speak up and instead waited for someone else to volunteer first.

In hindsight, there are a few things I could do better. First and foremost, I would attempt to accept every chance. Every opportunity comes with risk; for example, if I tell a joke, it’s possible that no one will laugh because humour does not always transcend between cultures. What, on the other hand, maybe the worst-case scenario? This uncomfortable circumstance would not kill me, but it could teach me a lesson. It’s just another memory that comes to mind when I think about it. The potential is endless, and maybe my later career success was determined by this random connection with others. If I open myself up to this kind of possibility, it’s a calculated risk that’s worth taking. Second, I’d like to improve my public speaking skills, which is why I’m joining a toastmasters club. It is not natural for me to speak in front of a group of people. Still, it’s not preferable to being silent because I’m attempting to add value to the ongoing discussion by influencing the audience and making my arguments remarkable. They could eventually thank me for speaking up. Finally, I’d take a deep breath and relax. It’s stressful when you’re in the spotlight, but try to enjoy the moment instead of wasting everyone’s time listening to me. With a variety of experiences, I would become a better leader. I take every chance, provide an excellent presentation, and demonstrate my charisma by remaining calm in this socially unpleasant scenario.