If it’s True, Own It

Years ago, I was at a tiny comedy club in LA with some friends. The place held about fifty people and the comics were all unknown and, as I remember it, just okay. 

We were sitting at a table up front. Like the table that the comics looked at when they wanted to make fun of someone. All of us were getting it big time from the comics, so despite them being only mildly funny, we were having a blast. 

At one point, the MC said something to the effect of, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest this evening. Please make some noise for Chris Rock!” 

We couldn’t believe it, but Chris freakin’ Rock walked on stage. The place went nuts. 

Rock was hosting the Academy Awards a few weeks later, so he was working on some material for the show. This is, apparently, a thing that comics do. But I had no idea about that back then. So I was staring at the biggest star in the comedy world, five feet from me, about to tell us jokes that would soon be heard by a billion people. 

When Rock stepped to the mic, in the midst of as much noise as fifty people could make, he said the following. 

“Lower your expectations.” 

I loved the humility of that statement. He was a huge star but was telling us that he was no big deal. And that his set would be just okay, even though it wound up being hilarious. 

I’m beyond fortunate that I get to speak on stages all around the world. I’m more fortunate that those talks and sessions are usually preceded by someone introducing me and saying something extremely nice about me as they do. This has always made me uncomfortable, so to this day, whenever I’m introduced in one of these settings, I borrow some version of the Chris Rock line. 

I’ll say something like, “Don’t believe a word he said” about the person who teed me up with some kind words. Or, “None of that’s true” about my bio, or even Rock’s line verbatim. “Thanks so much, everyone. But please lower your expectations.” 

These lines usually get a mild laugh, and then I kick into my talk. 

Recently, I was listening to a podcast and the guest was Arizona senator Ruben Gallego. I’d heard of Gallego, but I didn’t know much about him. Until the host of the show began heaping praise onto Gallego. “The first this…” “The most that…” “The only one who…” 

On and on for what must’ve been two full minutes, the host shared Gallego’s accomplishments and accolades. He then welcomed Gallego to the show, and I expected Gallego to say something like what I described earlier. I expected him to do that nervous, I don’t belong here, don’t expect too much of me thing that I learned from Chris Rock years earlier. 

He didn’t. 

Instead, when the host said, “Welcome to the show” he responded with, “Thanks for having me.” 

That’s it! 

No weird hedging. No apologies in advance. No being self-deprecating for the sake of being self-deprecating. 

He just owned that those things about him were and are true and he got right into the conversation. 

It made me think that when I saw Chris Rock, it wasn’t actually a Chris Rock show. He was testing out new material. We were expecting his absolute best, but he was telling us that we might not be getting that. That was the reason he wanted us to lower our expectations. Not because he doesn’t believe in himself immensely. Not because he can’t bring a 20,000 person arena to its knees in minutes. Because he can. 

I’m kicking off a whirlwind tour of speaking gigs and trainings this week. I don’t know what people will say about me before I hit the stage. I do know this: I’m done with acting like things that are true about me are weird and uncomfortable to hear. 

I just plan to own those things. Care to join me?