My name was called.
I hadn’t prepared for this moment.
I hadn’t prepared for any of it.
I just stood there, in front of a room full of lawyers and judges and people who made their living with words, and tried to remember that I had a name.
Fernando. My name is Fernando.
That’s it. That was all I had to say.
I couldn’t do it.
The room was welcoming.
That almost made it worse.
When everyone is kind and you still feel like
you don’t belong, you can’t blame them.
How I Got There
I was new to Atlanta.
There was a Toastmasters club five hundred feet from where I lived.
I went once. The room was empty, a holiday, it turned out.
This is a sign. If I was supposed to be doing this, the people would be here.
So I decided I was done.
I went back anyway.
This time the room was full.
Fifty people.
The Six Months I Hid
I had a goal. I wanted to be the greatest speaker this club had ever seen.
For six months, I didn’t speak.
They would ask guests to stand, say their name, share something about themselves.
I hated it.
So I started arriving late.
I started leaving early.
I timed my entire presence around not being called on.
Just say your name. Fernando. You can do that.
I wasn’t sure I could.
I wanted to become great at something
I wasn’t willing to be terrible at yet.
The Longest Five Minutes
My first prepared speech was five minutes.
It was the longest five minutes of my life.
The night before, I rehearsed every excuse.
When I’m nervous, I sweat.
When I’m nervous, my mouth goes dry.
Both happened.
My mind went blank.
The speech was about why words matter.
I was telling a room of lawyers and professional speakers that their words carried weight.
Such a rookie move.
I got through it.
And somehow, that night, I won.
Best speaker. A little ribbon.
I have been chasing those ribbons ever since.
The Curtain Pulled Back
Here is what I didn’t know as a guest.
I thought everyone in that room had always been this good.
That they were born knowing how to stand and speak.
Then I got to know them.
One person told me they prepared three months for a five minute speech.
Another admitted they were terrified every single time.
They weren’t fearless.
They were just further along
in their relationship with the fear.
They felt exactly like me.
They had just kept showing up.
Come for the Culture, Stay for the Community
Seven years. Over three hundred meetings. I still get nervous.
It never became fearless.
I just became more willing to walk toward the fear.
But the speaking was never really why I stayed.
I stayed for the people.
The same bar every Monday.
Six years of inside jokes built three drinks at a time.
So I asked the board to create a role that did not exist anywhere in the world.
Vice President of Club Culture and Community.
I run the hangs now.
The night ten of us did stand-up comedy at 10pm on a Wednesday and twenty-five people showed up to cheer.
People come to get better at speaking.
What they stay for is each other.
What It Comes Back To
If you are new to a city, standing in a room where everyone seems to already belong, I want you to know something.
The room felt empty the first time I showed up too.
You don’t have to be great.
You just have to come back the second Monday.