Public Speaking Tips for Administrative Pros

How can administrative professionals get better at public speaking?

Public speaking tips for administrative professionals start with accepting that nerves are normal and perfection isn’t the goal. Focus on one clear message, a short personal story only you can tell, and talking to people like humans instead of reciting a flawless script.

If you’ve ever silently begged an emcee not to hand you the microphone, you’re not alone. Terry, a former White House speechwriter for President Obama whose mom worked as a secretary, admits he froze on live national television and at more than one dinner toast. His reminder to himself—and to you—is that “perfection is not the standard.” You will say “um.” You might lose your place. That doesn’t disqualify you as a speaker; it makes you human.

For administrative professionals and executive assistants, the fear often shows up in high‑stakes, low‑prep moments: an unexpected toast, a last‑minute update in front of the leadership team, or accepting an award. When the Admin Awards first launched, the plan was to spare winners from acceptance speeches altogether. The board of admins said, very clearly, “please don’t make us speak.” In reality, once people walked on stage and finally felt seen, many of them didn’t want to leave the microphone. Recognition unlocked something they already had: a point of view worth hearing.

So how do you get from dread to something closer to readiness? Start by shrinking the task. Your job is not “give a perfect speech.” Your job is to answer one question for this audience in this moment. For an award, that might be, “Who helped me get here?” For a town hall, “What do people actually need to know?” Write that question at the top of a blank page and keep everything you plan to say tied to it.

Next, ground yourself in a simple three‑part structure that Terry used again and again, even at the White House: problem, solution, change. What’s the problem your audience cares about? What do you want them to try or see differently? And what does life look like if they do? Whether you have three minutes or thirty, that arc keeps you from rambling or data‑dumping.

Finally, practice out loud—even once is better than zero. Administrative professionals are used to polishing everyone else’s talking points in writing. Your real power comes when you hear how your own words land. If a sentence trips you up twice, cut or simplify it. The goal is not sophistication; the goal is sounding like you when you’re at your clearest and most honest.

How do you write a speech only you can give?

Most admins default to the safest move: say what everyone else has already said, just with slightly different words. Terry’s advice is the opposite. When someone asks what you should say, his answer is, “say what only you can say.” That’s the line that separates a forgettable talk from one people actually remember.

In practice, that starts with story. As a speechwriter, Terry doesn’t begin with bullet points or charts. He asks questions: Where do you come from? What was your family like? What have you struggled with? What do you value enough that you’d argue for it in a meeting? Those details are exactly what most administrative professionals edit out of their remarks—then wonder why their talks feel flat.

Think about the acceptance speeches you’ve seen over the 15‑year history of the Admin Awards. The ones people talk about afterward are never the bullet‑point thank‑you lists. They’re the moments when someone lets you in: the assistant who shared how long it took to believe they deserved a seat at the table, or the one who admitted they almost didn’t apply because “I’m just an admin.” That kind of honesty is risky, but it’s also what makes the room lean in.

Writing a speech only you can give doesn’t mean making it all about you. Terry is blunt about this: if it’s purely a personal monologue, you’re not a speaker, you’re a narcissist. The point is to find the overlap between your story and your audience’s reality. For administrative professionals, that might be the first time you pushed back on an unrealistic ask, or the decision to move an executive from “robotic slide reader” to someone who tells real stories in all‑hands meetings.

If you’re not sure where to start, try a quick inventory:

• One moment in your career that still stings—and what you learned.
• One moment that made you think, “I can actually do this job.”
• One person in your organization most people overlook, who changed how you see the place.

Build your talk around one of those, tied back to that simple problem‑solution‑change arc. When you’re tempted to smooth the edges, remember that the most powerful movements—civil rights, women’s rights, labor rights—didn’t start with spreadsheets. They started with individual people saying, “this is what happened to me,” and refusing to disappear.

How do you speak from the heart without oversharing?

Administrative professionals are often warned to be professional, composed, and “not too emotional.” Then, in the next breath, they’re told to be authentic and vulnerable. It can feel like a trap, especially for women, who still get tagged as either robotic or “too emotional” depending on the day.

Terry’s point is that speaking from the heart isn’t about tears; it’s about telling the truth about what’s been hard and what matters to you. He encourages speakers to ask themselves: What are the sources of my joy? My pain? My hardship? My achievements? You don’t owe anyone your most intimate stories, but when you choose a moment you are comfortable sharing, it has real power.

Think of Colleen Barrett, the legendary executive assistant who became president and COO of Southwest Airlines. The first time she spoke publicly, it was because the woman scheduled for a live interview didn’t show up. Herb Kelleher pushed Colleen in front of the camera because they needed a female voice. She wasn’t prepared, she was used to operating behind the scenes, and she did it anyway—by speaking from the heart about what she knew. That experience convinced her that when you “just speak from the heart, everything turns out okay.”

There are real double standards here. Terry is clear that men have been given more room to show emotion than women leaders, who still risk being labeled unstable for the same behavior that earns men praise. You can’t control that bias on your own. What you can control is intentionality: choose stories that illuminate a point your audience needs, practice enough that you can keep your composure, and remember that no one walks out of a talk saying, “I wish they’d been less open.” If anything, people wish they’d heard more.

What is the 50/25/25 rule for preparing a talk?

Most bad talks don’t come from bad people; they come from bad process. Terry watched it even in the White House: executives writing right up to the last minute, sharing drafts an hour before showtime, then wondering why the speech never quite landed.

His fix is simple enough that overworked administrative professionals can actually use it: the 50/25/25 rule. However much time you have, spend roughly 50% thinking and gathering, 25% writing, 25% editing and practicing.

In the thinking half, resist the urge to open a template or ask a bot to spit out paragraphs. Talk to people. Ask what they’re worried about or hopeful for. If it’s an internal meeting, that might mean chatting with the receptionist, the facilities crew, or the junior assistant who actually hears what people say in the hallways. Those conversations often give you the one story or line that makes the whole talk feel real.

In the writing quarter, accept that your first draft will be messy. Remember Terry’s take on writer’s block: the block isn’t your typing, it’s the voice in your head saying, “I’m in over my head, they’ll see through me.” Quiet that by anchoring to problem‑solution‑change and just getting through a short, imperfect draft.

The final quarter—editing and practicing—is what most executives skip and most executive assistants can protect. Build calendar time so your leader (or you) can run the talk out loud at least once. That’s when you’ll catch jargon, overlong sentences, and spots where a simple story would do more than another stat.

How should executive assistants use AI in their speaking?

AI is a tempting crutch when you’re busy: paste in the award criteria, hit generate, and in 30 seconds you have a “good enough” nomination or speech. The problem, as Terry sees it, is that “our voice, our story, our perspective…this is our superpower as a human being,” and AI can’t replicate that.

He draws a sharp line. Using AI as a research tool, brainstorming partner, or editor? Fine—as long as you double‑check what it gives you. Handing it the keys to the moments that actually require humanity—eulogies, acceptance speeches, job applications, stories of hardship—is a different story. He was genuinely heartbroken hearing about someone who used a bot to write a eulogy, because that’s exactly when a community needs sincerity, not generic comfort.

You’re already seeing the fallout in the Admin Awards nominations process: long, assertion‑heavy entries that all sound the same, clearly built from copied criteria. They’re technically polished and emotionally empty. In a world where many applicants and leaders are doing the same thing, the person who takes the extra 20 minutes to write a short, specific story only they could tell is the one who stands out.

As an executive assistant or administrative professional, set two personal rules:

1. AI can help you think; it doesn’t get to speak for you.
2. Any words that will come out of your mouth, to human ears, aiming for human hearts, are written by a human—preferably you.

Or, in Terry’s blunt version: “don’t give your voice over to a bot.”

FAQ: public speaking for administrative professionals

What if I completely freeze when I’m handed the microphone?

It happens, even to professionals. Terry literally froze on live TV. Take one breath, name the moment (“I’m so surprised—and grateful—right now”), thank one or two specific people, and stop. A short, honest acceptance is better than a long, scripted one you can’t deliver.

How do I balance professionalism with being vulnerable?

Decide in advance what parts of your story are on‑limits. Choose one experience that illustrates a point your audience needs—maybe a time you pushed for recognition for another admin or spoke up about unrealistic expectations. You don’t owe anyone your deepest pain, but you do owe them something real.

How can I help my executive be less robotic on stage?

Use your proximity. Suggest they add one personal story, even a small one, to that data‑heavy deck. Offer to interview people across the company—the admin team, the door greeter, the lunch crew—for examples they can reference. Leaders who show they see everyone in the organization earn more trust than leaders who only recite numbers.

I’m not a “natural” speaker. Is this even for me?

Yes. Terry spent 25 years behind the scenes and still hated public speaking at first. Great speakers aren’t born with a magic gene; they practice, they think hard about who they are and what they believe, and they repeat the reps. Start small. Offer a toast. Volunteer to introduce a panel. Each rep builds proof that you can do more than you thought.

If you want to see these ideas in action—and hear the full conversation with Terry—watch the full session in the Admin Awards Institute library.