Speech

3-4 Inspire Your Audience

This project addresses how to present a speech in an enthusiastic and inspiring fashion to establish a strong rapport with your audience.

Purpose: The purpose of this project is to practice writing and delivering a speech that inspires others.

Overview: Select a topic with the intent of inspiring your audience and prepare a 5- to 7-minute speech for your club.

Speech timings: 5:00, 6:00, 7:00

This speech was given at the Division (C) Contest.

Script

Three words can strike the fear of God into any man…Mother-in-law. Now what if I told you, that a few years ago, I moved to Berlin, to come and live with….my mother-in-law.

Now I know what you might be thinking…

First, what drugs am I on?

Second, what is going on with this mother-in-law? Is she super rich, maybe good-looking, or is she a bouncer at Berghain? What in the world could possibly make me move in with her?

I must admit she wasn’t actually my mother-in-law. She was just my girlfriend’s mother. Or now, should I say, my ex-girlfriend’s mother.

Let me explain! I am originally from Switzerland. Two years ago, my girlfriend was living in Leipzig and her mother had a flat in Berlin. I then found a really cool job here, so I thought, great! I can finally combine my work and my hobby ! And just like that I packed my bags and moved into my girlfriend’s mom’s spare room….kinda scary.

I thought I was going to move into a typical German household: bratwurst, kartoffel and birkenstock. Apparently I wasn’t paying enough attention when my girlfriend was rambling on about her family, because I missed the fact they were not just German, they were German-Turkish! And just like that I was catapulted into a miniature, bustling Istanbul: Turkish tea, Ataturk posters and cats everywhere.

After getting over this initial shock, I started my masterplan: the “mother-in-law” plan. Yes, you guessed it, to transform my girlfriend’s mother into my mother-in-law. As any smart boyfriend knows, if you manage to get the mom in your pocket, you get the girl! Easy!

At first the plan was going as smooth as silk: I was doing the chores, complimenting her average tasting cakes, learning Turkish on Duolingo, I was really proud of myself. But then, the plan took the worst…possible…turn….

My girlfriend dumped me. My now ex-girlfriend moved from Leipzig to the US. I was devastated, not because I was potentially losing the woman of my dreams, but because me, the candidate son-in-law, now had to deal with her mother, alone, which became, from one day to the next, my scary flatmate.

Now, I know what you might be thinking: Thomas, why didn’t you just move out? It’s not like the mom was chaining you to the bed like in 50 shades of grey. No, that’s true, but you see, I was paying cheap rent, in Berlin Mitte…and was getting anmeldung! So I decided to stick around a bit longer.

But continuing to pursue the “mother-in-law” plan is very hard because living with the mother is tough, but not for the reasons you might expect. She isn’t actually that scary and doesn’t even blame me for getting dumped (that would be kinda weird). The mother is proud, very proud of being Turkish and so it takes an enormous amount of willpower to not contradict her dubious, nationalistic claims. In the past, I was courting her daughter, so I could find good reasons to be diplomatic. Now I’m struggling to find reasons to be. If you listened only to her, you’d think that the Ottoman Empire was still ruling the world. The highest-quality furniture, the most-renowned tailors and the best barbers all come from Turkey! The Ottomans invented tea, coffee and even cheese! Cheese! She told that to a Swiss!

Last Christmas she came up with her most sensationalist claim yet…that Santa Claus was a Turk. Forget St Nicholas, pagan traditions or American marketing, no: his name was Father Frost. He was the father of all Father Christmases! As usual, I wasn’t convinced by this origin story, but then, I remembered the rent I was paying and kept my mouth shut.

This illustrates very well my current relationship with her, it’s like walking on eggshells. Every interaction is a fine balancing act! Can I ask her where baklava really comes from? Can I ask her if her daughter is dating somebody else? What should I tell her when I come home late from Toastmasters evenings? It takes overthinking to a whole new level.

But, I am grateful to have been (and still am!) living with her because I was also able to see where the dictatorial traits of my ex-girlfriend were coming from, and it’s not just from their current president!

But it’s definitely not all bad. She is a lovely person, with a kind heart. After all, she’s the one who suggested I move into her spare room and still helps me with my German paperwork. On the whole, she has made my integration in Berlin smoother, despite the fact that I became single.

She even used to say I was the son she’s never had, which I was very touched by. This is the kind of thing every candidate son-in-law wants to hear. However, she hasn’t said that for a while, so I’m wondering if she’s found another son she’s never had.

Writing this speech has really made me reflect and learn from this traumatic experience. I did realise that maybe I should have listened to her more about her Turkish family. Maybe I should not have called her a hobby. And, yes, maybe, I actually shouldn’t have moved in with her mom. Granted, you don’t need to give a Toastmasters speech to realise these things. Therapy, although not as effective and more expensive, is also an option.

But the most important thing I did realise while writing this speech for the fourth time was why I was still living with my ex-girlfriend’s mom and still trying to somewhat please her. It’s not just because I am getting anmeldung and stuffing myself with Turkish Baklava. It’s also maybe because I’m still clinging on to the futile hope of reclaiming her daughter back one day, however impossible I know that is. I finally realised why I was still drinking her freshly brewed Turkish tea, eating her fake Ottoman cheese and still worshipping the Turk Father Christmas.