Archive for January 2013
A Genius, in Retrospect
Mikhail Tal, the Latvian chess grandmaster and one-time World Champion, played a raging, attacking, seemingly bizarre brand of chess. His willingness to sacrifice his pieces for nebulous compensation led to some embarrassing losses but resulted in many fantastic wins when his opponents couldn’t, as Tal put it, see their way out of a forest where 2+2=5.
As an improviser, I admire his courage to randomize a position and put both him and his opponent on the spot. It’s easy to think of his creations as “just games”, but he was a professional player in what was then the Soviet Union. The tournaments to which he was invited and, more to the point, allowed to participate in depended on both his style of play and his results. Of course, it wasn’t until a game was over and the chess world had a chance to analyze his moves that the verdict for a particular sequence was known.
The same consideration is true for improvisers. We don’t know whether what we do is brilliant or not until a scene is over, but we have the luxury of working with a team to make all of our choices brilliant. And that’s why I have such respect for a competitor like Tal, who told this story (paraphrased):
I was in the middle of a tournament game when I began to wonder how one might rescue an elephant stuck in a swamp. Over the next 45 minutes, I imagined a series of pulleys and levers arranged in various configurations but came to no satisfactory conclusion. Then, seeing that I was running low on time, I looked at the board and played the first sacrifice I saw.
The journalist covering the game reported that, “After 45 minutes of thought, Tal unleashed a deep and powerful sacrifice that resulted in a won game.”
We can, and should, look at the mechanics of our work, but we must never dismiss what the audience takes away from a performance. The show exists in their memory as well as ours.
How to Apologize
It’s never easy to apologize, especially when you’ve angered the very people you count on for your livelihood. The National Hockey League, specifically its owners, potentially reversed seven years of increasing goodwill and fan excitement when it locked out its players in an attempt to force the players’ union to accept an odious Collective Bargaining Agreement.
The players (rightfully) dug in and, on January 12, the two sides ratified an agreement and 48-game schedule they could have reached months ago. So how do you make up for three months of no hockey and a loss of 34 games per team? One good place to start is by putting your money where your mouth is. The dispute was about money, so that’s the currency you use to apologize to your fans.
The social media team for the Calgary Flames, a team I’ve followed since I was an intern as the U.S. Consulate in Calgary during the summer of 1989 (the year the Flames won their only Stanley Cup), sent out these three tweets today:
For the first two home games this year, you can get a beer spilled on you at the Saddledome for half price, buy Flames gear for 50% off until the end of the first game, and have a guaranteed win of C$50,000 (with another C$50,000 going to charity) for the 50/50 drawings at the first two games. That’ll go a long way toward regaining their fans’ support.
Apology accepted, but this is the third time we’ve missed games during Gary Bettman’s tenure. Don’t let it happen again.
“Yes…and” isn’t always your friend in business
Improvisers are trained to accept other players’ offers so scenes can move forward. In fact, it’s nearly impossible for an improvised performance to succeed unless the actors say “yes” to others’ contributions “and” extend or heighten those offers.
In negotiations of all types, and especially in a business context, part of the battle for victory hinges on establishing the reality you’re discussing. As a writer, I have to place a value on my services and the benefits they bring to my clients. A potential client who’s interested in getting the best service at the lowest possible price could point out that they are a new company acquiring lots of content, so they aren’t in a position to pay me what I think I deserve. The “Yes…and” approach pushes me to accept what they’ve said as truth and take the contract as offered. The problem is that I’m not in a scene meant to entertain an audience — I’m in a negotiation over whether I get paid what I deserve. Many factors influence the decision, such as whether I’m bored or need the work, but in the end I have to live with the consequences of my choice. Accepting less than I’m worth drives down my value and, worse, my self-perceived value. Unless the situation is dire, you shouldn’t bend to the version of reality they’ve put forth.
You should also watch out for internal battles at a company, even one where you’ve worked for a while and established a trusting relationship with your colleagues. Your co-workers might misunderstand a situation or, if you’re competing for a promotion or assignment, want to influence how a situation is perceived. “Yes…and” can be a weakness others exploit. It’s tough to maintain a proper balance between acceptance and skepticism, but it’s worth the effort to try.
Improspectives 
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