There are two kinds of people in the world. You are either one type or the other. There are no gray areas. You are either type F or type L and there is no room for interpretation. You must accept this binary logic. You are under my power; you are getting very sleepy. Perhaps there is some room for gray areas, but in general, you are either Funny (that would be your type F), or you are Laughing (that would be your type L).
Since I follow the F path, I am acutely aware of how hard it is to be funny. Imagine sitting down to write about humor and thinking "I better have something funny to say, or this is going to suck." Funny doesn't work under pressure - funny works best from the spur of the moment; the off hand comment, the wry remark, the witty retorte. I thought about inserting humor randomly into the column (random is good, it's spontaneous, of a sort.)
An old man goes up to an old woman in a nursing home. "Do you know who I am?" he half-shouts self importantly. "No," she replies, "but go up to the nurses station and they will tell you."
That's taking a big risk though - not everyone will like the joke (or perhaps even get it), and of course there are always those that you offend. This joke offends old people, who are of course not all senile or forgetful. The point of this exercise is not to offend but to educate. The process (F) of making jokes and the process of enjoying them (proces L) differ as much as it takes different skills to make a good chocolate cake than to eat it. To understand or develop these skills, go and watch David Letterman's monologue, but try not to laugh (some nights, this is easier than others.) Instead of exhibiting type L behavior, be an "F" for a bit. See the table to help guide you:
If the joke is about: watch out a reference to:
sex and/or athletes Madonna
unusual hair Donald Trump
ineptitude George W. Bush
You can make your own list. Write down the theme and the reference, and take your scorecard out the next night. I don't mean to imply that Dave and his writers aren't funny or original. They entertain me. I Tivo the show nightly and try to watch at least the monologue the next day. And, since I consider myself a type F, I think I know how difficult it is to create jokes out of whole cloth. I imagine that they sit in a room and bounce ideas around and generally commit acts of immaturity until they come up with something original and witty, but that half the battle becomes "how the hell can we tell if this is funny after trying to invent hundreds of jokes and shooting rubber bands at each other."
While the job of comedy writer must be much less strenous than window washer in the financial district or bike messenger or prison guard, it must be a challenge. Those reading this who have extensive mileage will remember Rob Petrie trying to herd Morey Amsterdam and Rose Marie so that they could write funny skits for Rob Reiner.
They must have a solution for my conundrum - "they" being the people who work in a successful comedy writing room - because they generally produce funny material and I am assuming that the people producing it are of type F. In other words, they are all trying to make each other laugh, and none of them has the type L genes, so they aren't laughing at each other. They must have a way to know (or guess) when it is good enough.
What exactly is it that us type Fs are doing that keeps us from laughing?
Note that I am excluding from this behavioral observation people who don't have a sense of humor. You don't have to laugh at Benny Hill slapping a bald guy on the top of the head, or at Marty Feldman telling Gene Wilder "what hump" in Young Frankenstein - you just need to have something that tickles your fancy.
An old man goes up to an old woman in a nursing home. "I am in great shape. Do you know how old I am?"he bellows. "I can guess your age," she says, "just by holding your elbow." "Really?" he says and offers his elbow. She holds it for a bit and says, "You are 82." "That's amazing," he proclaims, "you really did that by holding my elbow?" "No," she says, "you told me your age yesterday."
So what are the type F's up to when the humor is flying and they are not laughing? Obviously, they are trying to come up with their own jokes. But it is more than that...they are the visionaries, first anticipating your joke to figure out where it will go. And then, trying to think what will the next step be - where can one go next? And will that be funny? Or just bad taste? Or plain old weird? There are a lot of choices to make. For example, the elbow joke above does not include the elbow. It includes a different body part which could make it much funnier and quite a bit naughtier. Does including that body part in a family-read column like this one cause a problem? Is the joke still funny without the correct body part?
There is no way to retell the joke; the cat is out of the bag (or more correctly, the fly has been zipped.) In a nutshell (no pun intended) that is the challenge for the type F viewpoint. You only have one chance to get it right, or you are stuck with the humiliation, embarassment and worst of all - silence.
Today's thoughts are dedicated to my very funny sister in law Sabine and her daughter Heidi who actually made me laugh.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Square Shooters
I was struck by the dialogue in the book "The Gate House" by the great Nelson DeMille, a story of great characters cloaked in a murder mystery/love story. I wasn't sure at the time what DeMille did or how he did it, but the characters seemed to communicate with each other key messages about possibilities, opportunities and risks. His main character, attorney John Sutter, finds himself in regular conversations with FBI special agent Mancuso about aspects of their interactions and relationships with some very dangerous mob types.
While this column is not a book review, I do recommend this (or anything) by Nelson DeMille wholeheartedly. This particular book is a long tome, but the more he went on, the better I understood the main characters, and the more interested I became in their fates.
So, Sutter and Mancuso talk regularly with the filter of some specific constraints in place. Mancuso is actively investigating the bad guys, and obvious needs for secrecy and former entanglements too numerous to mention complicate what these two are able to say to each other - Mancuso can't tell Sutter everything, but at the same time, he does not want him to get murdered. But they manage to make clear the important messages; on top of that, they also develop respect and a certain level of friendship. Their communication is a combination of very direct messages - telling it like it is - and hints and nuances that contained critical information (lives were at stake).
I was struck by these patterns for two reasons. One - a very wise (but often unpopular) manager once told me "there are two types of communicators, direct and indirect, and you follow the indirect model. Neither method is right or wrong; they are just different." Two - these characters-in-a-novel nuanced and hinted their way through some minefields, and I personally lack any ability to understand, interpret, recognize or process nuance. I am very comfortable calling this a guy thing.
The nuance/male/female/mars/venus thing sent me scrambling around the internet looking for clues. Among the male's many noted shortcomings, I assume that inability to understand the subtext of communication is on the the list. Is there scientific evidence? Science Daily (http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/01/090130084155.htm) writes about a study of men and women speed dating - can the opposite sex give the right signals, and interpret the signals given? As the lead author says: "How people talk might convey more than what they say." The researchers expected women to be better judges - but they were not. The daters were in Germany, and the judgers were in Indiana, so they cleverly configured this so that the words could not be used for judgement. Both sexes were equally good (or bad) at interpretation.
Which leads me back to my own inability to interpret nuance - I guess I have to find another excuse. But I digress...
When informed by my boss (this was in 1996) about my communication style was "different", I immediately did what any good employee would do. I assumed that she meant "change this style immediately, you fool!" See how I made the nuanced leap from "I'm OK; You're OK" to "You Have to Change Your Evil Ways, Baby?" Perhaps, I was limited by my inability to understand a hint; or perhaps, I really did understand the hint correctly. Over the intervening years, it did serve me as good advice to keep rattling around in my brain - what is the right style to use for this challenge I am facing? Be direct - shoot from the hip? Or fall back into a more natural pattern?
What is the relevance of this to current events? I have spent a the last few months in a fog at work because I clearly was not understanding what was going on, what was expected of me, etc. When I finally received a very direct message about what was going on, I was delighted. The message happened to be: "we don't want you to work here anymore" - obviously not a welcome message. Nevertheless, I was delighted. Someone explained to me what is going on. Wahoo!
Over the next two weeks, I have even been able to interpret some of the nuance of the message. For multiple reasons, some explainable only by Dilbert and some by an attorney, companies often can't tell you directly why they are removing you from their ranks. I was told that "my position was being eliminated". As any red-blooded employee-type at an American corporation would, I interpreted this message very personally as "you aren't good enough to work here." What I have come to understand is that the message was really "your position is being eliminated" as the company, like all companies these days, looks to run a tight ship. Being tossed overboard might not be my preferred method to contribute to this effort, but the fact is that there are some (small but serviceable) life preservers tossed over as well.
Where were the square shooters with their direct communication in the previous months, when the fog seemed as dense as mud? I don't know. When I look in my mirror, I certainly see that I could have done better. When Sutter and Mancuso talk, they keep at it until they have made clear to each other what needs to be known. That seems to be where I missed out. I don't believe that my trip back in the time machine where I tell it like it is and perform Obama-like feats of listening and messaging would lead to a different outcome. I think it might actually hasten the outcome - but given its inevitability, that might be OK. I might have still wound up in the lifeboat, but the waters might not be so choppy!
While this column is not a book review, I do recommend this (or anything) by Nelson DeMille wholeheartedly. This particular book is a long tome, but the more he went on, the better I understood the main characters, and the more interested I became in their fates.
So, Sutter and Mancuso talk regularly with the filter of some specific constraints in place. Mancuso is actively investigating the bad guys, and obvious needs for secrecy and former entanglements too numerous to mention complicate what these two are able to say to each other - Mancuso can't tell Sutter everything, but at the same time, he does not want him to get murdered. But they manage to make clear the important messages; on top of that, they also develop respect and a certain level of friendship. Their communication is a combination of very direct messages - telling it like it is - and hints and nuances that contained critical information (lives were at stake).
I was struck by these patterns for two reasons. One - a very wise (but often unpopular) manager once told me "there are two types of communicators, direct and indirect, and you follow the indirect model. Neither method is right or wrong; they are just different." Two - these characters-in-a-novel nuanced and hinted their way through some minefields, and I personally lack any ability to understand, interpret, recognize or process nuance. I am very comfortable calling this a guy thing.
The nuance/male/female/mars/venus thing sent me scrambling around the internet looking for clues. Among the male's many noted shortcomings, I assume that inability to understand the subtext of communication is on the the list. Is there scientific evidence? Science Daily (http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/01/090130084155.htm) writes about a study of men and women speed dating - can the opposite sex give the right signals, and interpret the signals given? As the lead author says: "How people talk might convey more than what they say." The researchers expected women to be better judges - but they were not. The daters were in Germany, and the judgers were in Indiana, so they cleverly configured this so that the words could not be used for judgement. Both sexes were equally good (or bad) at interpretation.
Which leads me back to my own inability to interpret nuance - I guess I have to find another excuse. But I digress...
When informed by my boss (this was in 1996) about my communication style was "different", I immediately did what any good employee would do. I assumed that she meant "change this style immediately, you fool!" See how I made the nuanced leap from "I'm OK; You're OK" to "You Have to Change Your Evil Ways, Baby?" Perhaps, I was limited by my inability to understand a hint; or perhaps, I really did understand the hint correctly. Over the intervening years, it did serve me as good advice to keep rattling around in my brain - what is the right style to use for this challenge I am facing? Be direct - shoot from the hip? Or fall back into a more natural pattern?
What is the relevance of this to current events? I have spent a the last few months in a fog at work because I clearly was not understanding what was going on, what was expected of me, etc. When I finally received a very direct message about what was going on, I was delighted. The message happened to be: "we don't want you to work here anymore" - obviously not a welcome message. Nevertheless, I was delighted. Someone explained to me what is going on. Wahoo!
Over the next two weeks, I have even been able to interpret some of the nuance of the message. For multiple reasons, some explainable only by Dilbert and some by an attorney, companies often can't tell you directly why they are removing you from their ranks. I was told that "my position was being eliminated". As any red-blooded employee-type at an American corporation would, I interpreted this message very personally as "you aren't good enough to work here." What I have come to understand is that the message was really "your position is being eliminated" as the company, like all companies these days, looks to run a tight ship. Being tossed overboard might not be my preferred method to contribute to this effort, but the fact is that there are some (small but serviceable) life preservers tossed over as well.
Where were the square shooters with their direct communication in the previous months, when the fog seemed as dense as mud? I don't know. When I look in my mirror, I certainly see that I could have done better. When Sutter and Mancuso talk, they keep at it until they have made clear to each other what needs to be known. That seems to be where I missed out. I don't believe that my trip back in the time machine where I tell it like it is and perform Obama-like feats of listening and messaging would lead to a different outcome. I think it might actually hasten the outcome - but given its inevitability, that might be OK. I might have still wound up in the lifeboat, but the waters might not be so choppy!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Elephant in the Room
Today's commentary should be full of witty prose and insight into the current condition. Top areas for rumination include: Can Obama really set pay levels for private sector executives? Will it ever rain again in Northern California, and if not, will my water bill be higher than my mortgage payment?
But, those won't be the areas of focus of today's pondering - because the Elephant in the Room is: I am now among the great unemployed masses. While adjusting to this recent change, I have come to the line of thinking that "this may be the worst time in the last 75 years to be out of work." That's a pretty big elephant - but I have the big guy trained and under control.
I have plans for how to attack the problem of getting a new job. I have connections and networks and Facebooks and am Linked In. I have three separate angles to pursue, different lines of work. I have board membership activity to keep me busy, and to serve as a launching point for my assault.
So what is the problem? Life is good then, even with the bad news, right? Well, so far, the hurdle I have to overcome is what I call the "cancer face".
The most painful part of the being cast out from the benevolent umbrella of the modern corporation has not been the "cast out" or the "how could they do this to me" or any of the usual bygones and regrets. (My job situation screamed "bad fit" from day 1, so relief washes over me every day when I wake up, surprisingly refreshed from a sound night's sleep, no longer tortured by the bad fit blues.)
No, I have had the most difficulty dealing with the repetitive conversation with Every Human I Come In Contact With that goes like this:
Me: Hey, How are you?
EHICICW: Great, how are you?
Me: Great! What's new?
EHICIW: Business is slow, we are nervous, we are watching our money, etc. And you?
Me: Well, actually, my position was eliminated, so I am unemployed.
EHICIW: Oh, gosh, that sucks, I am sorry (appropriate expression appears on face, like I told them I had cancer.)
Isn't it great that I have so many friends who all care about me and support me and show their heart-felt sympathy when I tell them my news? Yes, of course, but I am really sick of it, anyways. I recently brought my dog in to the vet to have a lump checked out, and sure enough, it was a potentially cancerous tumor. I immediately noticed the change in the veterinary staff. They all changed expression and lowered their voice - they indeed responded as well trained professionals should, showing respect and treating me (and Cody) properly, changing instantly into what I called the "cancer face." Fortunately, we caught it early, and Cody is back to normal, but my experience with the cancer face burned its way into my memory.
Now, just a few months later, the cancer face is back. My chief problem is that I am determined to not treat this event like cancer. Yes, it is bad news; yes, it is at one of the worst economic times we have faced for many years. But (and it is a big but), it is not cancer, and there is too much good news, too many other blessings to make this panic time. Time to make this into small stuff, and to not sweat it.
While these are bleak economic times, these are great times for anyone fortunate enough to have the resources to weather the storm. A great wave of change is sweeping the country - our new president may be part of that, but the people and the internet are coming together for even greater change. We have the chance to connect to each other and share experiences, ideas and humor in ways unimaginable a few years ago. We can turn our world into our own small town, with the difference that Mr. Haney and Mr. Kimball are replaced by people whose thoughts and struggles we choose to share because we find them brilliant, interesting, current or whatever we choose. Well, that is my theory anyways, and it won't pay the bills, but the opportunities are out there, knocking on doors as fast as we can answer.
So, I will keep talking it up, telling everyone the news, and I will smile bravely through the "cancer face" routine. What I secretly hope for: to meet the person who looks me in the eye and says, "you are so lucky, this is a great time to be on your own, exploring new ideas. You must be so energized." Because that is the way I feel, no doubt about. The real Elephant in the Room is not my application for unemployment benefits and the growing unemployment statistics - it's my pleasure at facing the brave new world, hoping that I will enjoy the bumpy ride to whereever it goes.
But, those won't be the areas of focus of today's pondering - because the Elephant in the Room is: I am now among the great unemployed masses. While adjusting to this recent change, I have come to the line of thinking that "this may be the worst time in the last 75 years to be out of work." That's a pretty big elephant - but I have the big guy trained and under control.
I have plans for how to attack the problem of getting a new job. I have connections and networks and Facebooks and am Linked In. I have three separate angles to pursue, different lines of work. I have board membership activity to keep me busy, and to serve as a launching point for my assault.
So what is the problem? Life is good then, even with the bad news, right? Well, so far, the hurdle I have to overcome is what I call the "cancer face".
The most painful part of the being cast out from the benevolent umbrella of the modern corporation has not been the "cast out" or the "how could they do this to me" or any of the usual bygones and regrets. (My job situation screamed "bad fit" from day 1, so relief washes over me every day when I wake up, surprisingly refreshed from a sound night's sleep, no longer tortured by the bad fit blues.)
No, I have had the most difficulty dealing with the repetitive conversation with Every Human I Come In Contact With that goes like this:
Me: Hey, How are you?
EHICICW: Great, how are you?
Me: Great! What's new?
EHICIW: Business is slow, we are nervous, we are watching our money, etc. And you?
Me: Well, actually, my position was eliminated, so I am unemployed.
EHICIW: Oh, gosh, that sucks, I am sorry (appropriate expression appears on face, like I told them I had cancer.)
Isn't it great that I have so many friends who all care about me and support me and show their heart-felt sympathy when I tell them my news? Yes, of course, but I am really sick of it, anyways. I recently brought my dog in to the vet to have a lump checked out, and sure enough, it was a potentially cancerous tumor. I immediately noticed the change in the veterinary staff. They all changed expression and lowered their voice - they indeed responded as well trained professionals should, showing respect and treating me (and Cody) properly, changing instantly into what I called the "cancer face." Fortunately, we caught it early, and Cody is back to normal, but my experience with the cancer face burned its way into my memory.
Now, just a few months later, the cancer face is back. My chief problem is that I am determined to not treat this event like cancer. Yes, it is bad news; yes, it is at one of the worst economic times we have faced for many years. But (and it is a big but), it is not cancer, and there is too much good news, too many other blessings to make this panic time. Time to make this into small stuff, and to not sweat it.
While these are bleak economic times, these are great times for anyone fortunate enough to have the resources to weather the storm. A great wave of change is sweeping the country - our new president may be part of that, but the people and the internet are coming together for even greater change. We have the chance to connect to each other and share experiences, ideas and humor in ways unimaginable a few years ago. We can turn our world into our own small town, with the difference that Mr. Haney and Mr. Kimball are replaced by people whose thoughts and struggles we choose to share because we find them brilliant, interesting, current or whatever we choose. Well, that is my theory anyways, and it won't pay the bills, but the opportunities are out there, knocking on doors as fast as we can answer.
So, I will keep talking it up, telling everyone the news, and I will smile bravely through the "cancer face" routine. What I secretly hope for: to meet the person who looks me in the eye and says, "you are so lucky, this is a great time to be on your own, exploring new ideas. You must be so energized." Because that is the way I feel, no doubt about. The real Elephant in the Room is not my application for unemployment benefits and the growing unemployment statistics - it's my pleasure at facing the brave new world, hoping that I will enjoy the bumpy ride to whereever it goes.
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