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Open Mic, Not
Did you ever have a dream of doing something, like being a comedian? I did. It was last night. I am pretty sure I was channeling Steven Wright. It was really weird. I stared blindly into the light, and in a monotone voice stated: “I have PTSD because I was raised by a television. I get flashbacks to sitcoms.” Do you suppose the laughter was canned? “Seriously, not cool, laughing at someone with mental health problems.” It was a real audience. “Don’t worry. I have thick skin. I only cry on Tuesdays. That’s when I have to pay up for all those hamburgers I gladly ate during the week.”
I don’t pretend to be funny, but people laugh at me all the time. When I fetch a client, I usually ask, “Did you bring the suitcase with a million dollars in it?” Invariably they laugh. I don’t know why. I am being like dead serious. Show me the money. I observe out loud, “you’re laughing.” Its monotone, just a statement. They tend to say, “If I had that, I wouldn’t be here.” I point out, “That movie, No Country For Old Men. You really don’t want that suitcase.”
In doing this, I have set the tone for what’s to come. If I can make someone laugh before they hit my office, they will usually tell me anything.
“My name is John. I am going to tell you jokes. You’re going to laugh.” If they laugh, I reward them, “Great, we have an…
