Life Is an Improv
When I drive my car I sometimes marvel at all of the adjustments a driver needs to make, split second by split second. We watch carefully, listen, adjust our course a little to stay in the same lane, change lanes, stop for traffic signals, and avoid hitting pedestrians. As I tell my children, if you daydream in class for fifteen minutes, no big deal. If you daydream for five seconds while driving you could be dead. When I drive I pay strict attention.
Driving a car, or living your life, is entirely an improvisation. There are physical, social, and psychological rules but there is no script. Even when you know what the scene will be – an employee review, appearing in court, or asking someone you love to marry you – you can only practice your part of the opening dialogue. You don’t know what the boss, the judge, or your intended will say, and there are so many possibilities that it’s impossible to prepare your answers in advance. But isn’t that part of why we each want to wake up tomorrow morning? To find out what will happen.
I remember my brother David who appeared in the final round of the Stanford Law School moot court competition. David was arguing his case when Justice Brennan from the United States Supreme Court, acting as the chief judge in the moot court finals, asked him a question.
David looked up at Justice Brennan on the bench and said, “Your honor. I don’t know what you mean by that question.” The auditorium went silent. I was sitting in the front row and hoped that Justice Brennan didn’t know I was David’s brother. Attorneys have been held in contempt for lesser breaches of decorum.
Brennan adjusted his spectacles and peered down at David.
“Counsel, I don’t know what you mean by that answer,” he said.
The audience laughed. David must have replied with something really clever, because he won the competition with the unanimous first place vote of all three judges
A friend of mine who acted in the Second City improv company in Chicago told me that the most important principal of improv is to respond “Yes, and . . . “ rather than “No,” because “No” stops the action.
“Let’s go to the Chinese restaurant.”
“No.”
End of improv.
In high school I was a member of the speech club. Our teacher, L. Day Hanks, taught us an important principle of salesmanship – continuous assent. In other words, agree with the other person, then continue.
“I would like a ten percent raise.”
“Ten percent? That’s pretty high.”
“Yes it is. And let me tell you why I’m worth it . . .”
I asked Susan, who later became my second wife, to join me in Hawaii for a week long vacation.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t have time to plan the trip.”
“Yes, and I know you’re busy, so I’ll do the planning. Air reservations, a car, hotels, everything.”
“You will?”
“Yes. And I may miss a few highlights on vacation, but I’ve always enjoyed myself.”
“Oh. Okay. Let’s go.”
Call it “Yes, and,” or call it “continuous assent.” For me life moves forward and each scene concludes most productively when I respond positively to whatever life brings.
As Dale Carnegie, author of How to Win Friends and Influence People (1936), wrote, “When fate hands you a lemon, make lemonade.”
Life is an improv. Go for it – sugar, lemons, and all.
Alan
You might take a look at my new Scrooge video. Friends say I resemble him.
Comments ( 5 )
Thanks, Joanie. Sophia served as an excellent elf! Happy New Year to you too! Love, Alan
Thanks for the comment, Susan! Happy and healthy New Year to you as well! Hopefully we can see each other sooner than later. Love, Alan