Today I Choose to be Poised – How to be Poised

The PowerPoint was perfect. I’d spent a week crafting the most gentle, metaphorical presentation about why our Operations needed improvement. Using the British Cycling Team’s marginal gains story – how they won the Tour de France through tiny 1% improvements – I’d woven a narrative so soft and encouraging that it practically had motivational music playing in the background. No direct criticism, no finger-pointing, just an inspiring story about the power of incremental change.

I was three slides from the end when our COO exploded.

“There is NOTHING wrong with Operations!” He slammed his hand on the conference table so hard that everyone’s water bottles jumped. His face had turned that particular shade of purple that usually requires medical intervention. “This is complete BULLSHIT!”

Every muscle in my body wanted to respond. To defend my data. To point out that the numbers didn’t lie. To remind him that we’d lost three major contracts specifically due to operational failures. My jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. But I stayed poised. Externally, at least.

The Physical Challenge of Not Reacting

Staying poised when someone is attacking your work feels like holding your breath underwater. Your body screams for release – to fight back, to defend, to match their energy with your own. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure everyone could see my blouse moving. My hands, hidden under the table, were balled into fists so tight my nails left crescents in my palms.

But my face remained neutral. My shoulders stayed level. I maintained eye contact without glaring. I became a statue of composure while inside I was composing his professional obituary.

The CSO, CEO, and CTO were all watching. How I handled this moment would determine not just the fate of my presentation, but my credibility as a leader. If I matched his energy, we’d have a screaming match. If I backed down, I’d look weak. Poise was the only path through.

The Long Pause That Changes Everything

When he finally stopped yelling (you know someone’s really lost it when they have to pause to breathe), I let the silence sit. Not a punitive silence, not a dramatic pause for effect. Just… space. Space for his words to echo in the room. Space for everyone to process what had just happened. Space for the absurdity of his reaction to a presentation about bicycles to fully land.

“I understand this is difficult to hear,” I said finally, my voice at the exact opposite frequency of his – low, measured, calm. “Change always is.”

I clicked to the next slide. It showed our operational efficiency metrics compared to industry standards. We were in the bottom 20%. The numbers spoke so loudly I didn’t have to.

When Poise Becomes Power

Here’s what I learned that day: poise isn’t about not feeling. I was furious. I was frustrated. I was frankly a little scared (he looked like he might actually have a stroke). But poise is about choosing how to channel those feelings. It’s emotional aikido – using the other person’s force against them by simply not engaging with it.

As I continued through my remaining slides – still gentle, still metaphorical, still using those lovely British cyclists – something shifted in the room. The COO’s explosion had made my measured presentation look even more professional by contrast. The other executives were leaning in, nodding, taking notes.

The CSO actually said, “These marginal gains ideas are fascinating. How would we implement them?”

The COO turned an even deeper shade of purple, but he’d used up his explosion quota. You can only slam the table and scream “BULLSHIT” once per meeting before you look completely unhinged.

The Seething Grace Period

Let’s be clear: I held my poise through that meeting, but the second I got to my car, I screamed. A full-throated, primal scream that probably scared birds three blocks away. Then I called my best friend and rage-narrated the entire event, complete with unflattering impressions of the COO’s purple face.

Poise doesn’t mean you don’t feel the feelings. It means you feel them on your own time, in your own space, where they won’t undermine your objectives. It’s strategic emotional management, not emotional suppression.

That evening, I went to kickboxing and imagined the COO’s face on every bag. Very therapeutic. Highly recommend.

The Aftermath of Composure

The next day, the CEO called me into his office. I thought I was either getting fired or promoted – there’s rarely middle ground after that kind of meeting.

“Your presentation yesterday was excellent,” he said. “And your handling of… the response… was professional.”

We both knew “the response” was code for “the COO’s complete meltdown,” but poise extends to how you discuss these moments afterward. No gloating, no told-you-so, no rehashing the drama.

“Thank you. I believe the marginal gains approach could really benefit our operations.”

He nodded. “We’re going to implement your recommendations. All of them.”

Poise as a Long Game

Six months later, our operational efficiency had improved by 15%. The COO, miraculously still employed (nepotism is real, folks), had to present these improvements to the board. He used my PowerPoint. The one he’d called bullshit. With the British cyclists and everything.

I sat in that board meeting, watching him present my ideas as if the whole thing had been his initiative, and I stayed poised. Again. Because poise isn’t just about single moments of composure – it’s about playing the long game. About understanding that being right is less important than being effective.

Did I want to stand up and say, “These were my ideas that he screamed were bullshit six months ago”? Obviously. Did I? No. Because poise means choosing your battles, and I’d already won the war.

The Physical Practice of Composure

At 61, I’ve learned that poise is partially physical. It’s:

• Consciously relaxing your shoulders when they creep toward your ears
• Breathing from your diaphragm when your chest wants to hyperventilate
• Keeping your voice in lower registers when it wants to climb into shrill territory
• Maintaining soft eye contact when you want to either glare or look away
• Letting your hands stay open when they want to clench

These physical adjustments actually signal your nervous system to calm down. It’s biohacking your own fight-or-flight response.

When Poise Fails

I’m not always poised. Last week, someone cut me off in traffic and I displayed a творческий variety of hand gestures that were decidedly un-poised. Yesterday, when Curtis put my good knife in the dishwasher AGAIN, I may have used language that would make a sailor blush.

But professional poise, meeting poise, conflict poise – that’s a skill I’ve developed through years of practice and way too many explosive COOs. It’s saved my career more times than I can count.

The Difference Between Poise and Doormat

Important distinction: Poise doesn’t mean you don’t address the behavior. After that meeting, I did file a formal complaint about the COO’s conduct. But I did it calmly, factually, without emotional language. “Raised voice, struck table, used profanity” carries more weight than “He went psycho and scared everyone.”

Poise is not passivity. It’s choosing how and when to respond rather than reacting in the moment. It’s strategic rather than spontaneous.

The Ripple Effects

That meeting became legend in our company. New employees hear about “The British Cycling Incident.” But what they remember isn’t the COO’s meltdown – it’s how I handled it. Several younger employees have told me it taught them how to handle aggressive colleagues.

One woman said, “When my manager started yelling at me, I thought ‘What would Susie do?’ and I just stayed calm and let him exhaust himself. It worked.”

That’s when I realized poise is contagious. When you model it, others learn it’s possible.

Today’s Choice

Today I choose to be poised, not because I don’t feel things deeply, but because I’ve learned the power of choosing when and how to express those feelings. Poise is not about being emotionless – it’s about being strategic with your emotions.

When the next COO explodes (and there’s always a next one), when the next person attacks my work, when the next conflict arises, I’ll choose poise. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s effective. Because the person who stays calm controls the narrative. Because composure in chaos is its own kind of power.

And afterward, I’ll go to my car and scream. Or to kickboxing. Or home to rant to Curtis (who’s learned to just nod and pour wine). Because poise doesn’t mean you don’t feel the feelings – it means you feel them strategically, process them privately, and show up publicly with the composure that turns explosive resistance into quiet victories.

The British cyclists won through marginal gains. I won through marginal poise – staying just 1% calmer than the situation demanded, every time, until it added up to total victory.

And yes, I still have that PowerPoint. Framed. In my home office. Right next to a photo of a British cyclist.

Petty? Maybe. Poised? Absolutely.