There was a guy in the audience at the show today who was a tough nut to crack.
Well, he kind of looked like he hated us. He wasn’t smiling or laughing at any of the jokes- and worse still the slow dawning warmth that usually comes from genuinely looking into someone eyes was not happening.
Throughout the course of the show, I was having this whole internal dialogue about why he was like that. Cycling between self blame and blame on him.
The truth is there’s only one choice.
Either I decide he’s a big old meany who hates me and thinks everything I do is lame, over-acting and disingenuous bull (ouch)
OR
I choose a more generous story. Maybe he’s had a terrible day, after all we don’t know what pain people bring into the theatre.
Maybe he is really nervous the actors are going to make him look foolish in front of all these people. His apparent coldness could be his best attempt at keeping us away and keeping himself safe.
The truth is, there are so many possibilities as to why he is the way he is.
Some of the stories I tell myself about him make me mad
and some of them make me open more to this fellow human.
I know which is easier in the moment.
I also know which one allows me to do my best work.
I’ll never know what was up with that guy. The story is up to me, I guess.
