Ripple: [rip-uhl] a wave that, properly surfed, takes presenters from small rural towns to big international cities.
What happens when a butterfly flaps its wings in South America?
Nothing, really. Some dumb butterfly in North America flaps its wings as well, and the result is an unbelievably minor trans-hemispheric game of Air Pong that we all casually disregard. Perhaps, if they had the Internet, opposable thumbs, larger brains, and iPads, the butterflies might discover that there is an effect named after them, and that if either the northern or southern butterflies would simply sit still for a bit, they could get the earth spinning off its axis until all the butterflies were together once more. They would discover that every butterfly has a long lost twin, and that they have the power to rule the world and occupy the most expansive fields of blooming wildflowers without interference from their archrivals, bees.
But they don’t have opposable thumbs or large brains, and their iPads’ sensitive touch screens pick up the undulating caresses of their resting wings, making it difficult for them to type anything meaningful without constantly having to start over. It’s frustrating.
Oddly, ripples and so-called “butterfly effects” work much more effectively for presenters. Give a rousing speech on contemporary dining etiquette at a Toastmasters club meeting, or elicit the cheers of your local Kiwanis club, and soon you may find yourself advising the UN on flatware service in the third-world. Giving the presentation is half the battle; learning to ride the ripples until they catapult you into wild success is the other half.
The Takeaway: You know when you’ve got a good presentation. Take time before delivery to lay out a framework for the road that presentation could put you on. As the ripples go out, you want to be prepared to handle any and all opportunities that come about.