Look at you—executive powerhouse, boardroom gladiator, Excel spreadsheet whisperer. You’ve got the confidence of Beyoncé at halftime and the decisiveness of a cat pushing glassware off a counter. But the moment someone says, “You’re live in 3…2…1”, your inner voice packs its bags and flees to a small, soundproof cabin in the woods.
Suddenly, you’re blinking like you just saw your quarterly projections and trying to remember what your actual job is.
Welcome to media training, where your brilliant mind meets stage fright, your smooth logic meets sweaty palms, and your “powerful executive presence” meets…a lav mic taped to your chest.
Let’s unpack your journey from CEO to media-ready MVP—complete with awkward stumbles, highly produced mock interviews, and a few unavoidable cringe moments.
The “I Got This” Delusion
You’ve done TEDx, once gave a toast at your cousin’s wedding, and you watch CNN without subtitles. Clearly, you’re media-ready.
So you sit down in the interview chair, straighten your tie/blazer/soul, and give your best “relatable leader” grin. Two minutes in, you’ve said “uh” 37 times, dodged the actual question like it owed you money, and sweat is visibly pooling near your eyebrows.
Welcome to the first wake-up call.
You’re not a disaster—you’re just human. And the media? The media is a game you’ve never trained for. And spoiler: It’s nothing like the all-hands meetings you command with passive-aggressive slides and laser pointers.
The “Let’s Fix That Face” Phase
Your media coach pauses the video. There you are on playback: blinking like you’ve seen a ghost and nodding at random like you’re listening to elevator jazz.
Time to retrain every facial muscle you’ve used since birth. Apparently, eyebrow spasms don’t scream credibility.
You learn about neutral resting face (not to be confused with dead fish face), active listening posture (no slouching like it’s Casual Friday), and camera eye contact (yes, you have to look directly into the lens like it’s your favorite stakeholder).
Also: stop saying “great question.” No one believes you.
The Message Discipline Meltdown
Next up: message training.
You think, “Easy—I’m always on message.” That’s cute. Except when a reporter asks about rising inflation and you start talking about the new CRM rollout like it’s the next Oppenheimer.
This is where you learn the magical powers of bridging (aka gracefully changing the subject without sounding like you’re running for office) and flagging (drawing attention to key talking points without waving an actual flag).
You practice soundbites, short answers, and responses that don’t include “well, it’s complicated…” even when it is very complicated.
Crisis Simulator (a.k.a. Media Gladiator Arena)
Congratulations—you’ve graduated to the gladiator level of media training: crisis simulations.
Here, you sit in a fake studio under very real pressure. The interviewer asks you why your company’s delivery drones are dive-bombing suburban neighborhoods. You panic, mumble something about “innovation” and “learning moments,” and internally scream.
Your trainer stops the session and gives you notes in the kind of tone reserved for someone who almost used the phrase “alternative facts.”
You run the drill again. This time, you control your tone, avoid speculation, stay calm, and deflect like a pro. Somewhere, Olivia Pope nods in approval.
The Speech That Stole Your Soul
You’ve got a keynote coming up. Great. Now it’s time to test your public speaking stamina.
You memorize your opener, rehearse your timing, and even test your jokes on someone under 30 (who stared blankly but nodded supportively).
Then you step onto the stage, trip over a cable, forget Slide #3 exists, and say “as you can see” while no slide is visible. Welcome to reality.
But here’s the twist: You recover, improvise, and finish strong. The audience claps. Your boss smiles. You even get a LinkedIn post out of it.
Playback Purgatory
You watch your recorded interview and discover that your voice sounds like a mix of Siri and a confused intern. Your hand gestures are chaotic, your metaphors confusing, and you said “you know” nine times in 30 seconds.
This is where you learn the beauty of self-awareness and editing. Media training isn’t just talking—it’s learning what not to say, when to pause, how to breathe, and most importantly, how to shut up when the answer is done.
Lights, Camera, Chill
You’re back in the studio. This time, there’s a mic in your ear, three cameras in your face, and a producer making slashing gestures you pretend to understand.
And guess what? You don’t stutter. You don’t sweat. You don’t over-answer. You give concise, credible responses. You smile, pause, and sound like someone who knows exactly what they’re doing—even if your brain is doing backflips internally.
You walk out, fist bump your coach, and pretend it was easy. Classic executive move.
Top Media Training Tips for Executives (That You’ll Actually Use)
- Maintain eye contact with the camera—not the floor.
- Speak in short, punchy sentences.
- Don’t wing it—prep your key talking points.
- Bridge questions to your message (without sounding shady).
- Avoid jargon unless you’re on a science podcast.
Conclusion: Congrats, You’re Now Media Trained (ish)
You started this journey thinking public speaking and interviews were just about “talking good.” Instead, you learned that media mastery requires practice, poise, and a little unlearning of all your natural instincts.
Your spreadsheet brain didn’t help you much, but your commitment did. You now understand that message delivery is a performance—and you’re no longer the understudy.
So go forth and conquer that press conference, that podcast, or that 60 Minutes segment. Just remember: never say “we’re excited about this journey.” Unless you want the internet to roast you.
Mic drop. Practiced and polished, of course.

Cassandra Toroian is a sports-tech entrepreneur and CEO/co-founder of Ruley, the AI “e-referee” serving tennis, pickleball, padel, golf, and soccer. With 25+ years building companies—and a background in finance (MBA) plus Python training—she’s also co-founder of Volleybird and author of Don’t Buy the Bull. A former Division I tennis player, she’s focused on using AI to make sport fairer and more accessible.
