Once you're on stage, you're responsible.

Once you're on stage, you're responsible.

It doesn't matter whether you're getting paid to be there or whether you love doing it. You're up there, and if you don't want to be, please, just don't do it. Find somebody else.

Thing is, you might just ruin somebody else's day with what you're bringing to the table. Or at least five minutes of it, enough, still. There are plenty of people who could do it, but you're taking their place. So many capable, smart, charismatic people—whatever you want to call them—could be up there. But no, you're taking their spotlight for the wrong reasons. Is it the money? The photos? New connections? Attention? Free makeup, maybe?

You see, regardless of your education, experience, stage presence, looks, or charisma, none of it helps if you're not interested in your responsibility up there. I've seen people step in front of crowds for the first time in their lives and leave an audience speechless. I've also seen people with impressive communication accolades and decades of experience make someone in the audience say, "Something's off. This guy is doing it for the money. Does he even want to be here? Are we even important enough to him? He's already calculating what he's getting from this room and whether it was worth taking the gig."

And what people sense rather quickly, is whether you know them. Not into their morning teeth-washing routine detail, but whether you know who you're speaking to and where. Whether your message is reaching them. Knowing who and what you're surrounded by should be the biggest factor shaping the way you talk and walk.

I've had bad days, too. I've gone on stage with the wrong motives and realised afterward that I simply didn't have anything to give to the people around me. Looking back, it feels wrong. Although sometimes you can't escape it, you can still give it a shot at reaching the maximum of the day. Whether that means your 50, 70, or 110 percent depends solely on you. But keep in mind how much so many people would do to have the opportunity to be where you are.

Sometimes people notice, sometimes not: your performance might have been outstanding. People clapped. Industry colleagues nodded. Everything seemed to go well. But you know that if you'd just read one more piece of research, you could have brought in a fascinating piece of data—something that might have helped the people in the room understand an important topic a little better.

And you also know there are people who would have gone that extra mile. But this time, you simply didn't have enough time to put it all together. So, what to do?

If you feel like you don't have the energy today, inspire with knowledge. If you don't have the knowledge gathered, fill the gap with enthusiasm. If your performance can't effect the crowd, a chat with one person in the lobby afterwards can make the world better too. If you've got something useful for many; the more the merrier. If you forgot something you wanted to share; reward the crowd with another equally useful bit. If that specific thing was expected, but you couldn't deliver; be honest, apologise.

Create arguments, why you deserve to be up there, whether rewarded or not. For yourself, firstly, and, of course, everyone listening to you. There's always a way to fill the gap. The crowd and your gut feeling will be forgiving as long as you give it everything you've got. And only then can it all be fun.

Talk to actors, musicians, politicans, or comedians: the stage is merciless. Yet, nobody's judging you, it happens all the time to everyone. Just a kind reminder, for me, for you, for all of us:

If you have the mandate to speak to a crowd—in any form, setting, or capacity—someone has decided that you get to take a little piece of other people's lives.

Be responsible. Then enjoy the moment.