我的演讲稿
这些演讲写于不同阶段，主题从争取机会、完成目标，到重新理解工作中的成长。我保留了每篇稿子的故事和核心观点，整理了表达、段落与英文语法。这里收录的是可阅读的文字版；现场的停顿、动作和临场发挥未逐一记录。
按时间从近到远排列：前两篇依据会议记录，其余四篇依据我确认的新旧顺序。
Context Loading
**演讲记录：**2026 年 8 月 18 日，Toastmasters 第 106 期。
**项目：**Presentation Mastery · Understanding Your Communication Style。
A year ago, Trip.com hired a senior data engineer who knew how to build data pipelines and useful reports. A few weeks later, he was still working late, and his weekends had turned into study sessions.
That engineer was me.
I had the technical skills. But my context was still loading.
At first, I thought I needed more information. A colleague showed me a table. “What is it for?” I asked. “We’ve always used it,” he said. Someone showed me another tool. “Why this one?” I asked. “Because everyone uses it.”
I collected more and more pieces, but I could not see how they fit together. Every answer seemed to produce another question. Eventually, I understood what was missing: I had information, but I needed a map.
I began building that map. I read old documents, tried the tools myself, and talked with colleagues about why things worked the way they did. Some paths led nowhere. Mistakes showed me where my assumptions were wrong. Gradually, I understood where the data came from, why the team used certain tools, and what the business needed from our work. New tasks finally had a place on the map.
That experience changed the way I use AI.
Imagine asking ChatGPT, “Write an invitation,” and expecting a message you can send immediately. A new colleague would need to know who will read it, why you are inviting them, and what you hope they will do. AI needs that context too.
I made this mistake as the VPE of my Toastmasters club. I wanted to invite Penny to give a short sharing speech, so I typed, “Please write an invitation for Penny.” The answer was polished and extremely formal. It sounded like an invitation to an international conference. I needed a short WeChat message.
I tried again: “I am the VPE of a Toastmasters club. Penny is a club member. I want to invite her through WeChat to give a short sharing speech next Thursday. Please make it warm, natural, and short.”
The second answer sounded like something I could send. The tool had not changed. The task was almost the same. I had given it the map.
When someone joins a team, knowing the tools is only a start. When we ask AI for help, a clear prompt is only a start. In both cases, useful work depends on understanding the people, purpose, and situation around the task.
Skills matter. Give them context, and they can finally do their best work.
Thank you.
Press and Hold to Focus
**演讲记录：**2026 年 7 月 28 日，Toastmasters 第 104 期。
**项目：**Presentation Mastery · Effective Body Language。
Good evening, everyone.
Who here has a job? And who has used AirPods with Noise Cancellation?
Then you already know two useful working modes. Transparency mode lets outside sound in, so you can hear people and respond. Noise Cancellation turns the outside sound down so you can focus.
Our work needs both modes. Most days, we are in Transparency mode: answering messages, joining meetings, and helping teammates. It keeps a team connected. The problem begins when we stay in that mode all day.
I learned this during a data report project. We had not agreed on the main question the report needed to answer. Several teams were involved, and each conversation seemed to lead to another.
I called Jackson, our product manager. “What question should this report answer?” I asked. He suggested I check with Jimi on the business team. Jimi said, “I need to see the report first. Then I can tell you what I need.”
I paused. “So I need your answer to make the report, and you need the report to give me the answer?”
“Yes,” he said. “Let’s talk again after you make a first version.”
I had spoken to both teams. I looked busy, but the project was still at its starting point.
Around that time, I read Deep Work by Cal Newport. His distinction between reactive work and focused thinking made me look at my own day. I had spent hours responding to people and very little time defining the problem.
So I took my laptop to a café beside Suzhou Creek. I sat by the window, put my phone aside, and closed WeChat and Lark. Then I gave myself one instruction: for the next two hours, stop reacting and work out what this project is for.
At first, my mind kept returning to the messages waiting for me. I stayed with two questions:
What problem should the report solve? What should happen after someone reads it?
Once I could answer those, the work had a direction. I could see what our team needed to build and what support to ask for. A week of busy conversations had left me confused; two quiet hours gave me a path forward.
I now try to choose my mode deliberately. When I need to share information or work through a decision with others, I use Transparency mode. When I need to define a problem or think through a difficult choice, I protect sixty to ninety minutes for one clear question. Afterward, I bring what I found back to the team.
AirPods let us press and hold to switch modes. Our attention needs a switch too. The next time an important project gets stuck, pause before sending another message or booking another meeting. Ask yourself: What mode am I in, and what mode does this task need?
Turn down the noise. Give the problem your full attention. Then switch back and share the clarity you found.
Thank you.
After Finish Line
**主题：**目标完成后，怎样继续过日常生活。
Fellow Toastmasters and dear guests,
I want to take you back to a school sports day. I was fifteen. I crossed the finish line of the 800-meter race in 2 minutes and 59 seconds. My classmates applauded. Some people told me I had a future in running.
You might expect me to call it the best day of my childhood. It took me more than ten years to understand why I remember it differently. This is the story of a race I won and a lesson I missed.
In our school, every class had to send runners. I was the class monitor, and the unspoken rule was that the monitor should volunteer first. When my teacher asked if I could run the 800 meters, I felt I could not say no. I was not especially interested in running, but my classmates were watching, and I wanted to make them proud. I set myself a target: finish in under three minutes.
For two months, I trained almost every afternoon. When other students went home, I stayed on the playground. I ran in the wind and the rain. It was hard, but I knew exactly what to do each day.
On race day, my legs shook through the last hundred meters. My lungs burned. I wanted to stop, but I kept going. I crossed the line at 2:59. First place. My teacher hugged me, and my classmates clapped. By seven that evening, I was so tired that I went straight to bed.
The next morning, the excitement was gone. I was fifteen and did not have words for the feeling. I told myself I was simply tired, then went back to school.
For years, I wondered why that morning felt so empty. I had expected the finish line to change how I felt for much longer. I had also lost the routine that gave my afternoons a purpose. And when I looked honestly at my goal, I saw how much of it had come from wanting other people to be proud of me.
I still set big goals. They can give me direction. But I try not to ask one moment of success to carry all my happiness. I also make room for quieter goals: walk five kilometers on Saturday, sleep eight hours for four nights, call my mother on Sunday. None would win a medal. Each gives me something worth doing on an ordinary day.
I cannot go back and speak to that fifteen-year-old boy. If I could, I would tell him to enjoy the applause, get some rest, and make a small plan for the day after.
We celebrate big moments: a promotion, a wedding, a finish line. They matter. But most of life happens between those moments. Set the big goal and run toward it. Then remember to care for the days that follow.
Thank you.
What Remains
**主题：**任务做完后，留下什么能力。
“Copy, paste, send. Copy, paste, send. Done!”
It is 11 p.m. My task list is empty. I am tired, but I tell myself I must be growing because I have worked so hard. Then I close my laptop, look at the dark screen, and ask: The tasks are finished. What is left for me?
For a long time, I thought getting through more tasks was the answer. Then I met Mr. Chen, an engineer on my team. He was not the loudest person in the room, but he had a question I never forgot: “Will this happen again?”
If the answer was no, he finished the request and moved on. If the answer was yes, he looked for a way to make the next request easier. He turned a solution into a reusable tool, wrote down how it worked, and shared it with the team.
At first, I thought he was creating extra work for himself. Six months later, a similar request came from another team. Others estimated it would take at least two weeks. Mr. Chen recognized that we had already built much of what we needed. He said half a day would be enough. I watched the team publish the change that afternoon.
That experience gave me a sentence I still use: tasks end; capability remains.
I began to apply the same question to my own data work. Imagine a restaurant kitchen: raw ingredients need cleaning, preparation, and a recipe before someone can enjoy a dish. Data work also involves cleaning information, organizing it, and making it useful to others. The first time I worked through one such project, it took me two full days.
I could have sent the result and moved on. Instead, I took another step: I made a template, recorded common mistakes, and wrote down the steps I expected to repeat. That took effort on the day. It also gave me a starting point for the next project.
AI makes this question even more useful. We can produce a first draft, summary, or calculation quickly. But we still need to recognize which problem is likely to return and decide what knowledge should be kept. A useful tool, a clear method, or a well-documented decision can help someone long after today’s task is finished.
When I close my laptop now, I still want to know what I completed. I also want to ask what I made easier for next time.
Thank you.
Just Send It
**主题：**为自己提出请求。
Let me ask you a question. Have you ever typed a message, stared at it, and deleted it before pressing send?
Maybe you wanted to ask your boss a question or ask a friend for a favor. Your mind started racing: What if they say no? What if they think I am greedy or difficult? So you told yourself, “It’s fine. I don’t really need it. I’ll ask another time.” And the message stayed unsent.
I know that feeling. About a year ago, I received a job offer. I liked the role, the opportunities, and the work-life balance. Part of me wanted to accept it immediately. Another part wondered whether I could ask for more compensation.
I worried that the company might withdraw the offer. For several days, I opened WeChat, typed a message, deleted it, and started again. Eventually, I sent a simple note: “Hi, could we schedule another call to discuss the position?”
That was only the first step. Before the call, I prepared a spreadsheet with salary information and comparisons for similar roles. I wanted to explain my request clearly, with facts, instead of relying on a feeling that I deserved more.
On the call, I asked for higher pay and explained my reasoning. There was a pause. The company could not meet my initial request. They offered a one-time signing bonus and a later start date instead.
When the call ended, I felt calm. I had asked, listened, and reached an outcome I would not have known was possible if I had stayed silent.
I still hesitate before asking for things, even small things. When I do, I remember that message. Asking does not guarantee a yes. It gives the other person a chance to answer, and it gives me a chance to speak for myself.
So if there is a thoughtful request sitting in your drafts, prepare it. Be clear about what you want and why. Then send it.
Thank you.
Why Negotiation Is a Life Skill
**主题：**谈判不只发生在薪资话题里。
How often have you stayed quiet because you thought it would make life easier? I have done that many times. Today, I want to talk about what changed my mind.
When I first looked for a job after university, I lacked confidence. I was happy to receive an offer and did not think to ask about the terms. Later, I saw other people negotiate successfully. I wondered why I had assumed that the first offer was the only possible one.
Before my first job change, I decided to prepare differently. I learned more about salary negotiation and the full compensation package. Salary was one part of it; a signing bonus, start date, and other terms could matter too.
In one conversation, the company told me they could not raise the salary further. I could have ended the discussion there. Instead, I asked whether there was room to discuss other terms. We agreed on a signing bonus and a later start date. The extra time let me travel before beginning the new role.
That conversation taught me something beyond the value of the offer. I could raise a question, hear a limit, and still look for an arrangement that worked for both sides. Negotiation did not require me to make demands or pretend I had more power than I did. It required preparation, a clear request, and a willingness to listen.
We negotiate in more places than we realize: how to divide work, when to start a project, or what support we need to do a job well. Staying quiet can feel easier in the moment, but it leaves our needs unspoken.
The next time something matters to you, find out what is possible. Ask clearly. Listen to the answer. The conversation itself is a skill worth practicing.
Thank you.