You are the show: what I (re)learned about strategy from standup

In early 2020, I signed up for one of those comedy classes comedians warn you about in their memoirs. I think Ali Wong actually said she would disown her first child if they attended one. Luckily for me, my mom has yet to publish her memoir and has been kind enough to contain her critique to our phone calls.?I signed up again in 2024, because, you know.

I’ve always been into comedy as a spectator. I used to spend a glorious week every year bouncing all over town to make the most of my JFL42 credits (a model I never understood, that, well…). Nowadays, I giggle to more podcasts than I care to admit and continue to torment my Netflix algorithm with a confusing blend of Bo Burnham, Demetri Martin, The Office and the latest cringe reality (Selling Sunset right now, for the gripping character development).

I never really had the desire to take the stage myself and originally had every intention of pursuing the class mostly for my day job. I hoped to hone in on craft, storytelling, delivery and a heavy dose of beginner’s mindset.?As a bonus, I also became a little transfixed with the process, evolution and high of stand-up, but that’s a story for a different day and platform. Lessons (re)learned: ?

1. Have a clear POV: you’re transforming data into a perspective. In strategy, you’ll have to back that perspective with evidence, but in comedy, it can be an anecdotal instance you make into more. You can figure out how to present that POV once you've uncovered it. Both come with unique challenges!
2. Many paths to the same insight: an insight can be arrived at in many ways. It might be part of a larger story, the main event or translated into something else if you’re flexible and open to its evolution. David Sedaris’ Masterclass had a fantastic example where he wrote the same essay over 20x before its eventual publishing, and the final looked nothing like the first draft.?Don't be afraid of becoming unattached to your ideas and allowing for reinvention later.
3. Know your audience (aka the client): in standup, you listen for laughs to enhance your jokes and shorten the time between them. You could hypothetically fiddle forever, whereas in client conversations, a pitch could be your only chance. Consider every conversation an opportunity to learn, and pay attention to the head nods as a signal for when you’re earning attention and endorsement. (Not every audience is the same, so be mindful to never lose your POV.)
4. You are the show: It may elicit an eye roll which I will welcome and condone, but the whole “I get to do this” reframe has some validity. Before my first performance, I was queasy wondering why I had decided to do any of this at all. I thought back to many incredible leaders in the agency world who have advised me to “be the best part of your client’s day” and it stuck. I decided I could at least seem like I was having fun and I guess that reverse psychology paid off because I loved it.?
5. Lead people how they want to be led: one thing that impressed me about my instructor (Dan Galea ! If you’re in Toronto, check out his shows) is how tailored his feedback is to its recipient. He truly encourages you to find your own voice. At times, this can feel intimidating and frustrating because cOmPaRiSoN iS ThE ThiEf of JoY, but his insistence was critical to getting over insecurities. As you grow through the corporate ranks and become known for your own style, it can be tempting to impose it onto every project. You can’t. True success, impact and scale requires listening to the person you’re coaching — who they are, what they want to say, what they’re motivated by – and helping them tune their voice accordingly.

I don’t know what the future holds in terms of me and comedy. Right now, it looks like two scheduled shows and maybe some impromptu open mics. What I can confidently say is I’ve gained a new crew of pals, a creative outlet and pride in the attempt. If you’ve ever considered it ~*~this is your sign~*~.?