CC Project #5: The Paparazzi

Competent Communication Manual
Project #5: Your Body Speaks
Speech Title: The Paparazzi
Delivered at: PIPCA Riyadh Toastmasters Club
Evaluated by: CC/CL Beethoven T. Lee

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Introduction

31^st of August 1997, Diana, Princess of Wales died as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash in the Pont de l'Alma road tunnel in Paris, France. Her companion Dodi Fayed and the driver of the car were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.

News of the Diana’s demise shocked the entire world. Rivers of tears were shed and along with it, an ocean of red roses swamped her wake. People came like endless line of ants offering candles and condolences, and all of them share the grief of losing a beloved Princess.

And though the investigations were still on progress, the media and gossip columns already turned their blaming fingers on the paparazzi. “The driver was running away from the obnoxious paparazzi!” everyone concluded!

I felt the lost too. Being a fan of Princess Diana, with angst I shouted “Crucify the paparazzi.” And from that day on, I unwittingly learned to hate the paparazzi.

Good evening fellow toastmasters and guest.

Body

I am pretty sure, most of you here had heard of the word paparazzi. And I bet the first thing that would come into your mind – he/she is a person who carries a camera.

The word paparazzo (singular form of paparazzi) comes from an obscure Old Italian dialect which literally means an annoying & noisy mosquito. Like its namesake, indeed, paparazzi have been criticized for their pesky behavior. They have utter disregard for privacy, they trespasses and worst, they would stake out just to get what they want.

But have you ever asked how it is like being paparazzi?

Just few years back when I first pick up a camera and discover a passion on photography, I was always conscious of the word paparazzi. My friends would tease me… “Ah, so now you’re paparazzi”. “Of course not”, I replied with an enraged eyes. “But I eat pizza”, I quipped – then my friends would loudly laugh.

But seriously, there were many times when I started to doubt that what I was doing is leading me to a personality that I hate..

It all started when I was "hired" by a local magazine in Singapore. The task was simple: get a “good and presentable” picture of the celebrity or the minister who graced an occasion.

But it was never easy. I have to compete with a horde of wild photographers. I leaned to develop strong guts – I became shameless, my friends would say, I cultivated limitless patience and perseverance – waiting for long hours before my subject would arrive, and lastly I develop the skills of blocking and ambush.

From afar, I would observe how the target moves. With correct anticipations, I would position myself ahead of the target and the moment he/she passes by, and then I’ll do my job. All you could hear is the machine gun clicks of the camera (show the audience the camera and click) and blinding lights of flashguns (turn on the flash and click). It was very effective and m publisher loved me for my pictures. But even if my pockets were filled with handsome rewards, I left the assignment because… I don’t want to be paparazzi.

One day by chance, I met a local famous photographer. He invited me to work with him for a project with celebrities, and many other models involving Thais, Russians, and Brazilians. Alas, I felt comfortable. Working in a studio was far from pressure and certainly not paparazzi stuff. Not only that I could see beautiful women all the time – oh they are naked (grin and wink) – I can control the creative aspect of the shoot.

A year later, my mentor taught me a skill called 1-second technique. That is: to lift the camera, point to the subject, set the correct settings, click, and then hide it back – all in one second. (Repeat the demo but do it quicker to make it 1 second). You may ask, why the rush? My new task calls for a rapid and precise shooting. My models would walk in public places – mostly crowded – would pose in a flash (for about 2 seconds) then walk away. I must perfectly capture that moment, right the first time, all the time. No redo, no undo.

I have to conceal my gears otherwise; I would attract attention of the bystanders or onlookers. Using specialize accessories like hand strap to preclude the camera from dropping – I can hide my camera behind my back and walk casually.

At first, I find it was interesting. But when I mastered the skill, I realized that this is the technique that most paparazzi uses when stalking celebrities. Eventually, I left the magazine and concentrated on studio photography – the one I enjoyed most.

The drift of my hobby towards paparazzi didn’t stop there.

One time, I was invited to Philippines for big-buck project. A not-so-known corporate executive paid us to take candid photo shoots in all his public appearances. We should come in full force – all five of us - and should devote 80% of our efforts taking his pictures thus giving an impression that he is important and significant. We will discreetly submit the pictures on a common repository where another team will use that for his PR campaign.

Oh, unusual, don’t think? No, it’s common practice. You just didn’t know it. Showbiz personalities – mostly fading stars or start up actors / actresses hire people like us. And we gladly indulge with their caprice with mucho dinero.

And yes, politicians too! But I can’t divulge more otherwise they might send someone here in Riyadh and get me into trouble. Just ask our handsome and youngest Senator of the Land? (Give a wicked smile and wink).

Closing

What have we learned tonight my fellow toastmasters? Paparazzi are pesky, we all agree on that. Those paparazzi made money, lots and lots of money, out of those candid pictures. You are partly to be blame, because you patronize gossip columns, tabloids, and ugh smut magazines – thus we created the demand.

We learn that there are paparazzi that were paid by the subject themselves. Oh, the glory of fame is indeed glittery and controversial.

And me … I now understand and felt how it is to be paparazzo.

In parting, I’d like to share what my dad said when I told him I hate his disciplinarian ways… “be careful with what you hate, you may end up just like that”

Back to you toastmaster of the evening

CC Project #4: Navigating the Streets of Riyadh

Competent Communication Manual
Project #4: How to Say It
Speech Title: Navigating the Streets of Riyadh
Delivered at: PIPCA Riyadh Toastmasters Club
Evaluated by: CC/CL Beethoven T. Lee

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Introduction

6pm, Batha.

Carrying six bags of grocery items, I hailed a taxi cab and get in quickly. I sat at the back and sigh with a relief – those bags were heavy. Then the driver ask “where sadik”. “Sulaimaniah”, I responded. Roughly ten minutes of silence followed. Then I noticed that we were at the wrong direction. We were heading towards the Airbase.

“Sulaimaniah, my friend”, I exclaimed. “Aiwa, Sulaimaniah”, he replied.

“La, take U-turn, go Military Hospital, baden right round-about, baden right at signal, see Peking restaurant, turn left, after two streets right turn, then stop second block.”

Salutation

The conversation sounds familiar, isn’t it? I could see smiles in your faces. That, I would take as a “yes” answer.

Good evening fellow toastmasters and guest.

Tonight, let me share with you my adventures on the streets of this exciting place – the city that what was once called the Gardens of the Arabian Heartland.

Body

Arrival in Riyadh

The signs that my life in Riyadh would be full of excitement started right after I went out of the King Abdullaziz International Airport. I was expecting a chauffer to take me to the hotel, but nobody came. And after waiting for two hours, I valiantly decided to take a taxi cab. For a new comer in Riyadh, I was expecting a smooth and exciting ride toward the city. But lo and behold, a different kind of excitement greeted me that morning.

Call it luck and my day. I choose a taxi driver, whom I guess, was a frustrated kamikaze pilot. He runs the taxi like a tornado at 160kph and swivel between lanes like a snake. And, to top it, he dodges cars by less than a meters. Seated at the front passenger seat, I was holding my breath and was silently calling all my little gods of protection. “Please let me pass this nightmare”, I quipped. Indeed after an hour of ordeal, we arrived safely at the hotel.

Yes, my knees were trembling when I alighted from the taxi.

Two weeks later, I made another valiant decision. I decided to take a stroll on the oven-hot streets of Riyadh. After one hour walking, I noticed that 8 of the 10 streets that I passed by, have address names written in Arabic. The streets with English characters have a rather unusual long name for a street such as ???? bin ##### bin ****. I wonder how these people remember the street names. And I have not seen any bus plying around? “Gee… How do people move?” I asked my self. And lastly, there were neither ladies nor children walking around.

Tsk.. tsk.. tsk… What an unusual streets, we got here!

When I moved to Sulaimaniah district near Riyadh International, my friends applauded my choice. The place “accessible”, they said. I realized later, that “accessibility” has a relative meaning here in Riyadh. It is very useful when taking a taxi. I only need to say “Sulaimaniah, near Filipino School – RIS” and 4 of every 10 drivers would recognize the place. For the remaining 60%, I have to say it the long way: “Get me to Sulaimaniah, to the Military hospital, then turn right, you see Peking restaurant, turn left, two streets, then turn right and second building to the left”. I wish I could just say the street name, but that would be impossible. Our street has Arabic name and even if I could read it, I bet, the driver wouldn’t know where it is.

“I have enough”, I said. I decided to buy my own car to avoid problems with taxi. Just when I thought I solve one problem, I encountered another one. A bigger one!

My first time driving in Riyadh was running an Indian Pass initiation of a fraternity. Cars would appear from all directions like rabbits and foxes. They will cut corners. They will make turns without signal warnings. They will hug two lanes by running in between, and they will blow there horns the moment they see green light – even you were already moving. And the will park at will – even in the middle of the road.

If you are turtle run at 60 kph on major streets, they will either give you a high beam or an irritating horn. It is okay if you are on the middle lane or left most side of the road. But on the right most –the slow lane – then I really don’t see the logic of it.

You know my first car accident? It was rear collision. The guy was angry because I stop at the yield position entering an express way. He shouted at me “you were looking for a parking”. Hah! Why seek for a parking in an expressway?

Conclusion

Seven months have passed, I remembered that taxi driver at the Airport. He was not frustrated fighter pilot, actually. He is just one of the many “regular” drivers of Riyadh. Soon, I may be just like them not that adopted a cruising speed of 140 kph – far from my regular speed limit of 50 kph in Singapore.

In parting my friends, let me share to you what I learned when I was navigating the streets of Riyadh.

Be patient with the taxi driver, he too is confused like you and he just want earn a living.

Be patient in the road at all times, and observe speed limits as much as possible. It is your life that you wanted to protect, not anyone else.

And yes, you can stroll along the streets of King Fahad Medical City, but not along busy streets. It’s dangerous.

Back to you toastmaster of the evening