I still think about that interview.
Six years ago, I sat across a conference room table from a panel of prospective peers. The role represented a stretch for me. It was for a seat at the senior executive table.
The opportunity was internal and the group knew me well, so they skipped over a lot of the ice-breaking and minimized boilerplate questions.
Just as the pace of questions slowed, a kind but stern VP bluntly asked:
"How are we going to take you seriously?"
I asked for a minute to think about that. If you know me, you know it's unusual for me to ask for time to think about a question. That's probably true even if you don't know me. I process pretty quickly on my feet, but I needed time with this one.
The question felt personal.
After an uncomfortable (for them, maybe) 42 seconds, I began my response:
If you don't mind, I would like to give you a 4-part answer:
First, I invite you to look at the results I've produced. I gave a few specific examples of results I'd delivered. If you're going to invoke results, you need to support that claim.
Second, I have experience helping people in tough situations, and as a result I have pretty good situational awareness. I know when levity is inappropriate and I know how to apologize when I am wrong.
Third, at this point in my life, a change in my personality is unlikely. If seriousness is important to the effective performance of this role, I am probably not the best candidate.
Fourth (imagine a dramatic pause) Maybe you all need to lighten up.
I didn't get the job. But I'm pretty confident the answer to that question was not the reason why.
Three years later, I was reading Humor, Seriously by Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas while sitting on the beach on vacation. I'm not telling this story to say "I told you so."
But I felt vindicated. And validated.
I was right. We all needed more levity, especially since most of us hadn't been in the same room with our colleagues in over a year.
I was still at the same company, in about the same role, delivering great results. I hadn't changed a bit.
Most importantly, I was getting regular feedback about how I helped change conversations in the "room" and people were having fun at work. The book labeled people like me "instigators."
I was good with that.
The Book
Humor, Seriously by Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas. I still recommend it for everyone, yes, even you somber and stern types. The footnote to the subtitle says anyone can harness humor. Even you.
Now I run my own practice. I work with executives who value clarity over ceremony, and who know that the best thinking happens when people stop performing seriousness.
I still haven't changed a bit.
Seriously.