Stepping Outside the Comfort Zone

How could I have made such a mess of the presentation? The project was so meticulously constructed—every detail was carefully considered, and every calculation I checked and rechecked. I knew the proposal inside out, but none of that mattered when I was standing in front of the Board. My voice faltered, my thoughts scattered, and I stumbled through points I’d rehearsed a dozen times. By the end, I felt like I’d let everyone down, most of all myself. I looked at myself in the mirror, I splashed water on my face and tried to compose myself.

---

I’ve always been good at the technical side of my job. Being part of the project development team at Williams Constructions plays right into my strengths—analysing data, solving complex problems, and creating detailed proposals. But the moment I stand in front of an audience, my confidence falls apart. My voice shakes, my hands tremble, and the points I’ve rehearsed vanish like smoke.

This time was no different. I left the boardroom feeling deflated, running through every mistake I thought I’d made. My delivery had been choppy, and I’d stumbled over a key point. I ducked into the break room, trying to shake off the feeling of failure.

"Mark, you okay?"

I turned to see Sarah, one of my senior colleagues. She always had this way of knowing when something was off.

I sighed. "Not really. I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of presenting. It’s like I’m fine until I’m up there, and then everything just… falls apart."

Sarah nodded and sat down across from me. "You’re brilliant at what you do, Mark. Everyone sees that. But presenting—it’s a skill, not something you’re born knowing how to do. You can get better at it."

I raised an eyebrow. "How? I feel like I’ve tried everything."

She thought for a moment. "Have you ever thought about stepping out of your comfort zone completely? Something unrelated to work but still focused on speaking or performing?"

I frowned. "Like what?"

“Drama classes,” she said, smiling. "I took them a few years ago—not because I wanted to act, but because they forced me to be okay with being uncomfortable. It was fun, and it helped a lot."

I couldn’t get her suggestion out of my head. That evening, as I scrolled through my phone, I saw an ad: "Beginner Drama Classes – Build Confidence, Explore Creativity!" It felt like fate—or maybe a sign. Either way, I signed up before I could second-guess myself.

The first class was awkward. I found myself in a small theatre space with a group of strangers, all equally nervous. The instructor, Anna, had this infectious energy that made it hard not to relax—at least a little. Our first exercise was introducing ourselves with a silly gesture. I flapped my arms like a bird, feeling ridiculous, but the group’s laughter made me smile.

Over the next few weeks, I started to enjoy the process. We did improvisation games, voice projection exercises, and even monologues. I still stumbled, and there were moments when I felt foolish, but I kept going.

Then came the final challenge: performing a five-minute piece in front of a live audience. My first instinct was to quit, but I remembered Sarah’s advice: "It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress."

I chose a monologue from a play about an architect defending his vision. The night of the performance, my palms were sweating, and my heart was racing. But as I stepped into the spotlight and started speaking, something clicked. My voice steadied, and for the first time, I felt a strange sense of confidence.

The next time I had to present at work, I was still nervous, but it was different. I stood taller, spoke with clarity, and kept my focus.

After the meeting, Sarah caught up with me. "You seemed a lot more comfortable up there."

I grinned. "I’m getting there, thanks to your suggestion. Drama classes weren’t what I expected, but they’re exactly what I needed."

It wasn’t an instant fix, but I’d learned something important: growth starts when you step outside your comfort zone. And I was finally ready to keep stepping.