Say it twice


The first time I walked into an emergency department as a medical student, I had a reference point.

Not a textbook.
Not a lecture.

ER

Just before I started, I’d watched Noah Wyle step into County General as a junior doctor.

Same scrubs.
Same uncertainty.
Same attempt to look like I belonged.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Because here’s the truth:

I thought if I sounded like a doctor, no one would notice I didn’t yet think like one.


💡 ONE IDEA WELL

Fast forward a couple of decades, and I’ve been binge-watching The Pitt.

Same chaos.
Same urgency.
Same clipped, confident dialogue.

But there’s something subtle happening that most people miss.

A doctor says:

“We need to intubate.”

And then - almost immediately -

“We need to put a breathing tube in to help them breathe.”

They don’t do this because the other doctors need it.

They do it for us.

Because the writers understand something most presenters forget:

The moment someone doesn’t understand you, they stop listening.

Not because they’re stupid.

Because they’re human.


🧰 LESS MESS, MORE MESSAGE

Most presenters do the opposite.

They say it once.
In the language they’re comfortable with.
And then they move on.

Acronyms.
Abstractions.
Half-explained ideas.

It sounds fluent.
It sounds intelligent.

But it’s often just camouflage.

Experts narrate. Great presenters translate.

In a real emergency, clarity saves time.

In presentations, we often do the opposite—we rush, and clarity is the first thing to go.

The Reframe

Great presenters don’t just know their subject.

They remember what it feels like not to know it.

They don’t narrate.

They translate.

Because if you don’t translate, you’re asking your audience to do the work.

And they won’t.


🧭 TRY THIS

Next time you present, use this simple rule:

👉 Say it twice.

  • Once for you
  • Once for them

If you say:

“This patient is in atrial fibrillation”

Follow it with:

“The heart’s beating irregularly instead of in a steady rhythm”

If you say:

“We leveraged a new framework”

Follow it with:

“We found a simpler way to approach the problem”

No slides required.
No extra time needed.

Just a moment of awareness.


❓ ASK YOURSELF THIS

Where in your next talk are you assuming understanding?

And what would happen if you made it just a little easier to follow?

Back then, I thought being a good doctor meant sounding like one.

Now I think it means something else entirely.

Clarity over cleverness.
Connection over performance.

Because the goal was never to impress the room.

It was to be understood.

And maybe - if you get that right -

to be remembered.



Speak soon,

Andy

If you’ve ever thought,
“But this is obvious…”

That’s the problem.

👉 https://speakhuman.kit.com/posts/you-re-smarter-than-your-audience-that-s-the-problem

TEACHING ISN’T A SCRIPT. NEITHER IS THIS.

One idea a week to help you teach and present with more clarity, confidence, and calm. No fluff. No scripts. Just practical tools that land.

Read more from TEACHING ISN’T A SCRIPT. NEITHER IS THIS.

Like him or loathe him, Jimmy Carr understands something many presenters don’t. The brain is a difference detector. For ninety minutes, the room moved at speed. Rapid-fire jokes. Setup. Punchline. Setup. Punchline. The audience barely had time to recover before the next gag arrived. And then, suddenly, he slowed down. He started talking about male loneliness. About suicide. About how men often struggle to ask for help directly because they feel the need to feel useful first. The jokes...

At a recent talk in Hobart, I had 90 slides. Thirty minutes. Ninety slides. If you’re doing the maths, that’s three slides a minute. Which sounds… fast. By most presentation advice, that’s a problem. Too fast.Too much.Too many chances to lose the room. Afterwards, no one mentioned it. Not one comment about pace.Not one raised eyebrow about slide count. Because they hadn’t noticed. 💡 ONE IDEA WELL The “one slide per minute” rule has been around for years. It sounds sensible. Clean. Reassuring....

Most presenters don’t realise when they disappear. It usually happens the moment they step behind the lectern. Not their voice. Their presence. Because nothing obvious changes. The slides are still there. The microphone still works. The words still come out. From the audience’s point of view, the talk continues. But something else quietly drops away. The energy.The connection.The sense that this is a person… not just a presentation. And often, it’s not deliberate. It’s instinct. When the room...