Sometimes Training Is a Coffee Shop

Awareness can change the listener. Our training can change what we do when the listener isn’t aware.

In August 2018, we posted a challenge to McGuire Programme members:

“STARBUCKS – SHARE YOUR NAME ON A CUP! Share your name on a cup challenge, even if you don’t like STARBUCKS!!”

Members went into Starbucks, ordered their drinks, gave their names and shared photographs of the resulting cups.

It was fun.

But there was a serious purpose behind it.

For a person who stutters, walking up to a counter and ordering a coffee can be anything but an ordinary interaction.

And then comes the question:

“Can I have your name?”

For some, that’s where an everyday transaction can suddenly become a very difficult speaking situation.

Your name is your name

People who stutter can become remarkably skilled at navigating around speaking difficulties.

You can change what you order because another item is easier to say.

You can substitute a word.

You can point.

You can let somebody else order.

You can use an app.

You can avoid the situation altogether.

But your name is your name.

Of course, you can give a different one, but then we have to ask ourselves a different question:

Why am I changing my name?

That’s what made the Starbucks exercise useful.

The objective wasn’t really getting your name written on a cardboard cup.

It was approaching the counter, entering the interaction, ordering what you actually wanted and saying your own name rather than allowing fear of stuttering to make those decisions for you.

And then you got a coffee. A small reward for taking action. Even if it wasn’t your favourite coffee.

When an understanding listener isn’t enough

There’s another important part of this conversation.

Before I joined the McGuire Programme, a situation like this would have been a nightmare for me.

I would have avoided it at all costs.

And here’s something that’s sometimes difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t stutter:

A kind and understanding listener wouldn’t necessarily have made me able to speak.

Someone could patiently wait.

They could smile.

They could tell me to take my time.

They might say, “Just breathe.”

Their intentions could be entirely good.

But I could still be struggling enormously.

Because the tension wasn’t necessarily coming from the person standing opposite me.

It was internal.

The anticipation, fear, physical tension and effort to force a word out were happening inside me.

Changing the behaviour of the listener could make the interaction more understanding and respectful and that matters but it couldn’t automatically change what was happening inside me.

That required work on my side of the counter.

So why does awareness matter?

This is why we welcome the recent work between Starbucks UK and STAMMA to improve understanding of stammering among Starbucks staff.

More than 10,000 Starbucks UK baristas have now completed training designed to help them better understand customers who stammer, including the importance of listening and allowing someone the space to speak.

That’s a positive development.

Nobody who stutters should be mocked because they are struggling to speak.

Nobody should have their sentences continually finished for them.

Nobody should automatically be treated as though they don’t know what they want simply because the words aren’t coming out.

Greater awareness can change those reactions.

But we also have to recognise something else.

Most of the world hasn’t had stuttering-awareness training.

What happens when the listener doesn’t understand?

I was once training with a new student when we approached a counter in a shop.

The student tried to speak.

They struggled badly and, for a moment, couldn’t get anything out.

The shop assistant clearly didn’t understand what was happening. She began laughing and looked towards a security guard standing within earshot.

This was exactly the kind of unexpected real-world reaction that can make an already difficult situation considerably harder.

I stepped in.

But not to escape the situation.

I made a full disclosure. I explained that we were from the McGuire Programme, that we were working on stuttering and that the student was deliberately practising speaking in real-world situations.

The interaction changed.

And suddenly that speaking exercise had become something else as well.

It became an opportunity to educate someone.

That shop assistant hadn’t attended an awareness course.

She hadn’t been prepared for what she encountered.

She simply didn’t understand what was happening in front of her.

Now she did.

And perhaps the next time someone blocks while trying to speak to her, she’ll recognise what might be happening and respond differently.

That is powerful.

We cannot train every listener

Of course we want greater public understanding of stuttering.

Initiatives like the Starbucks and STAMMA training can help with that.

But there will always be another counter.

Another shop.

Another telephone call.

Another meeting.

Another stranger.

And we cannot prepare every person we will ever speak to before we speak to them.

Some people will understand immediately.

Some will be wonderfully patient.

Some will become uncomfortable.

Some will try to rescue us.

Some will say “take your time” or “breathe”, believing they’re helping.

Some will finish our words.

Some will have absolutely no idea what’s happening.

And occasionally, someone may react badly.

The question then becomes:

What can we do?

That’s where real-world training becomes so important.

We can work on staying in the situation rather than escaping it.

We can work on our speaking behaviours.

We can disclose.

We can explain.

We can allow someone to see and hear us working on our stutter without trying to hide it.

And sometimes we can educate the person standing opposite us.

Awareness and agency

There doesn’t need to be a choice between creating more understanding listeners and helping people who stutter become more active speakers.

We need both.

An informed listener can provide time, respect and space.

But ultimately the person who stutters still has to enter the interaction.

That’s particularly important because the goal cannot become:

“I’ll be able to speak when everybody understands me.”

We don’t control everybody else.

What we can work on is our own response.

That leads us to an important distinction:

Awareness can change the listener.

Our training can change what we do when the listener isn’t aware.

One works on the environment.

The other works on our ability to enter that environment as we find it.

Success doesn’t mean perfect speech

This also changes how we measure success in an exercise like ordering a coffee.

Imagine someone approaches the counter.

They struggle.

They block, they begin to stutter.

The listener becomes confused.

The interaction becomes uncomfortable.

The person discloses, explains what’s happening, uses their tools and completes the interaction.

Was that a failed speaking exercise?

Not from our perspective.

Something much more important may have happened.

They approached.

They spoke.

They encountered difficulty.

They stayed, they canceled and did said it again (they stoped, acknowledge it through action, reset, and say it again using the behaviours we train.)

They dealt with an unexpected reaction.

They completed the interaction.

That experience can be considerably more valuable than a perfectly fluent coffee order.

Because the objective isn’t to construct a world in which nothing unexpected ever happens.

It’s learning that when something unexpected does happen, we can deal with it, work through it, and leave with a positive interaction.

The world becomes the training ground

A McGuire Programme course provides an intensive environment in which to learn and practise.

But eventually the work has to leave the training room.

The real world becomes the training ground.

Making a telephone call.

Introducing yourself.

Asking a stranger a question.

Speaking in a meeting.

Walking into a shop.

Ordering exactly what you want.

Saying your own name.

And sometimes explaining to another human being:

“I’m working on my speech at the moment. I’m a work in progress, and if I have a stutter block, I cancel it and say it again. That’s what I want and need to do.”

Not because we owe everyone an explanation.

But because choosing to explain rather than escape can sometimes transform an uncomfortable encounter into an opportunity, for us and for the person listening.

That’s why those photographs of Starbucks cups from 2018 still mean something to us.

They weren’t really about coffee.

They were records of people deliberately entering speaking situations they might once have avoided.

Eight years later, it’s encouraging to see Starbucks taking steps to educate the person on the other side of that counter too.

Because greater understanding is valuable.

But we’ll never be able to control every listener or every situation we encounter.

And perhaps we shouldn’t need to.

Awareness can change the listener.
Our training can change what we do when the listener isn’t aware.

Sometimes training happens in a course room.

Sometimes it’s out on the street.

And sometimes…

it’s a coffee shop.