It’s a rainy, midsummer evening. I’m standing in a draughty hall, holding a glass of cheap, white wine and staring intently at a middle-aged man as if he’s the Messiah. “In my view, the problem with Britain today…” he drones.
A group nearby laughs uproariously. It’s too hot, my shoes pinch. The people here are acquaintances rather than friends, and this is one of those social functions I’m attending out of duty rather than desire. Normally, I’d be appeasing this gasbag with the occasional “Oh?” Meanwhile I’d be shuffling in my tight shoes, eavesdropping on the fun gang.
But tonight is different. Tonight, rather than sinking in discomfort, I decide to bask in it. Dispassionately, I analyse the sensation of sore toes. I objectify the uproarious laughter by dismissing it as just another sound, rather than a siren call. When the man pauses, instead of interrupting with a story of my own, my eyes remain fixed on him. I pause two seconds, then ask a question. He runs a hand through his hair. I run a hand through mine.
Am I attempting a seduction? Heaven forbid. Do I care what he thinks about me? Not particularly. No matter. For I have just obtained the latest American must-have, a charisma coach, and tonight I am practising my new skills.
Until I encountered Olivia Fox Cabane, whom US executives at firms like Google, Deloitte and Citigroup pay up to $100,000 a year to help boost their X-factor, I’d have naively believed charisma was an intangible, magical aura.
by Julia Llewellyn Smith, The Telegraph | Read more:
Marilyn Monroe, 1953 Photo: REX FEATURES
