The year of reckless abandon
Putting yourself out there is scary, but scary things are worth doing the most.
No. 114: The year of reckless abandon
Isn’t it true that, at work, there tends to be a kind of workspeak?
Generally, it’s polite, officious, and automatic. There are areas where the conversation can wander and others where it definitely cannot. For every sentence unrelated to the task at hand, an imaginary needle inches closer to the red zone, the point when your interlocutor says something along the lines of, “Anyway, I set up this meeting to talk to you about about X.”
Some are more okay with ditching workspeak than others. Leave it to me to find them. One of my greatest pleasures is attempting to get people to open up, drop the facade, and just talk. I chat with them knowingly, as in, I know you’re a normal person and not a robot. Sometimes I’m successful. Other times I’m not. Some people just don’t want to go there.
Which I get.
Then the company has a happy hour and all bets are off. Turns out, all it took was a few hazy IPAs for Tisha to tell me about the cardigan she embroidered for her chihuahua, Poncho.
It’s possible my coworkers find my casualness annoying. In fact, I know sometimes they do. When a meeting begins and the go-to how are you’s are exchanged, I usually go on a miniature tangent rather than tolerating another bland, Good. You?
Well, actually, this morning I burnt my coffee, so that sucked. But overall? I can’t complain. The weather looks nice today. I’ll probably take the pup out for a walk later. I’ve been working on this short story that’s giving me a run for my money, but we shall overcome. You been working on any projects outside of work?
Happily, most reciprocate. I get to learn something about them, what they’re up to, and who they are. To know and befriend the people you work with is probably the most rewarding thing about having a job — at least, for me.
Other times? I can see the confusion in their face as I ramble, then a sudden blankness. When that happens, I give up and get to the job to be done (JTBD, in workspeak), at least until the next meeting. I one-hundred-and-twenty percent get not wanting to share. Not everyone likes to or feels comfortable. Sometimes, even I don’t feel like sharing — I just want to get the meeting over with. My goal, though, isn’t to force conversation as much as it is being the guy who’s willing to talk about more than performance metrics.
Grace and I were talking about all this while laying in bed the other night when she said, “You’re good at that, getting people to open up. I’m not.”
At which point, we began to analyze.
I guess that was true. It isn’t only at work but in every circumstance that I tend to skip past the surface level if possible. Whether the grocery store worker, someone I bump into on the street, or a new neighbor, I do my best to chat candidly so that we might relate on that commonest of planes: being people.
Grace, on the other hand, admitted to putting on the smile, the cheery voice, and the “correct” social behavior. She attributed this to her many years working retail jobs, where authenticity is considered a cardinal sin.
And I realized.
The key to getting someone to open up is simple: show them you’re willing to open up by being the first one to do it. Usually, that means risking your image, speaking whatever’s on your mind, even embarrassing yourself (or doing stuff considered embarrassing according proper social rules). Showing someone that you’re imperfect makes them feel comfortable being imperfect, too — and everyone is, or at least they believe that they are.
Thing is, this takes confidence. And confidence is hard.
We apply these facades from a lack of it. They’re easy, safe. So long as we follow the pre-approved motions, there’s a good chance no one will detect the weirdos we really are and that we’ll escape unscathed.
But what fun is that?
I’m starting to think getting routinely scathed, or showing up with all your scars on display, is the key to communicating effectively.
This is especially true in the realm of creativity.
Much of my life, which includes my creative endeavors, has been a slow process of learning to open up, show my imperfections, and to be okay with them. In the aforementioned scenario of a conversation, it’s saying something that might be construed as ridiculous, dumb, or out of pocket, and instead of going red in the face, standing tall as if to say, “Yeah, I just said that,” even laughing at the odd, interesting, and always-surprising human that I am.
Lately I’m thinking that process of getting better at writing, and arguably at anything, is developing this confidence to the extent of reaching an almost fuck it attitude. When I look back at my early writing, I see a writer afraid to use his own voice, so he adopted others. When I think of why, in the past, I didn’t do certain things that interested me — start a band, dance with a girl, start a YouTube channel — it was because I was too worried about putting my imperfections on display.
Now? I’m positive that everyone feels this way, some just choose to go for it anyway. If all of us are imperfect, it doesn’t do to be the person who pretends not to be, because the only way to maintain that illusion is to pretend or to avoid action completely. On the other hand, there’s realizing those little imperfections are unique characteristics that aren’t going anywhere, then unapologetically being yourself.
Conversation has proved these things to be true. Writing, and the incredible support I’ve received on Substack and elsewhere, has also. But then, some of the greatest evidence has been from the POV of reader, listener, watcher. Take George Saunders or pretty much any writer with a characteristic voice and style — they give all of themselves to their craft, no reservations, and that makes them original, authentic, and great. The same is true of Joe Rogan, a podcaster loved for his authenticity; various YouTubers; every excellent musician; and pretty much anyone who’s achieved anything in the creative sphere.
When you open yourself up to this degree, do you risk being ridiculed, critiqued, or disagreed with? Absolutely yes. As is probably the case for those interacting with my stuff, I don’t approve of everything I hear or read from the creators I enjoy. What I value, though, is their willingness to put those thoughts and ideas out there in the first place. The alternative is being so afraid of negative reactions that creative paralysis kicks in and nothing gets done — that or the editing is so severe that the original essence of the thing is lost.
That’s no way for a creative person to live.
Know then that when you hear from me, you’re getting the authentic matt — whatever that means. There will be surprises, weirdness, blunders, unpopular opinions, and more. But it will be me. And surely there’s value in that?
Let the year of reckless abandon commence. ♦
Weekly Three
HEAR: “Answer to Yourself” by The Soft Pack
READ: What can we learn from Barnes & Noble’s surprising turnaround? by Ted Gioia
VIEW: I started a YouTube channel.
Embrace the reckless 😉 Good read.
It gets easier with time. I spent 3 years at night school doing a diploma in Sales Management and Marketing 2 nights a week. There was a huge amount of learning in engaging people in conversation, which helped me heaps. I was OK performing on stage and talking about music, but I struggled prior to the training in going up to strangers outside of music to start a conversation. After the training it became easy. A bit of humour at your own expense is a good ice breaker.