Most bad speaking is not bad speaking. It is a good speaker in a room that was arranged by whoever got there first. We come look at the room.
Start at the worst seat, not the best one. Sit in the back corner and look at where the speaker will stand. If a pillar, a screen edge, or the head of the person in row four is in the way, you have found the problem — and it is a problem no amount of preparation fixes from the front of the room. Angle the chairs before you move the lectern. It is cheaper.
Three heights matter and only one gets measured: the lectern, the stage, and the seated eye line of the audience. A speaker on a twelve-inch riser is commanding to the back and looming to the front row. On no riser at all, they are visible to eleven people. The fix is arithmetic, and it takes about four minutes.
Every room has a distance past which unamplified speech turns into effort — for the speaker and, more importantly, for the listener. Hard surfaces push that distance in; carpet and bodies push it out. We find where it sits in your room, then decide whether you need reinforcement or just need to stop shouting. Ceiling speakers aimed at the audience are worth more than a better microphone almost every time.
This is the question nobody asks, and it is the whole job. Not "can they hear you" — hearing is solvable with equipment. Seeing is geometry, and geometry has to be settled before anyone arrives.
Go stand in the back. Have someone stand where you will stand. Look. If you have to lean to find them, so will every person who paid to be there.
Fix the room once and it stays fixed. Fix the speaker and you have to do it again next month.
Dimensions, seat count, and a photograph from the worst seat in the house. That last one tells us the most.