There's Another Way

I was attending a conference in Las Vegas once when I recognized a man standing across the room. He was overdressed with an ill-fitting pinstriped suit and shiny shoes. I knew him because he was a booking agent for performers and we had briefly corresponded in the past. So, I took a business card out of my pocket and worked my way across the room to introduce myself.

From what I had read about this guy online, he was everything I’m not. He was always in “sales mode”, like a character in “Glengarry Glen Ross”. Everything he did, everything he said, everything he wrote, and everything he shared was designed for one thing: to close the sale and make him more money.

I’m the exact opposite. I cringe at the thought of always closing and networking makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. My approach has always been to simply be good at what I do and let my work speak for itself. I’ve always thought that all I need is one shot in front of a person to convince them that I’m worth working with.

That approach has worked well for me so far. Even during the pandemic I’ve been fortunate enough to get myself in front of people and use that opportunity to win them over. For example, back in July I did an event for Zoom. (Yes, THAT Zoom.) It was one of their regional events with a small team and I knew that I was one of many performers that they had been working with. So I prepared a special performance just for them, in hopes of setting myself apart from any of the other acts they had seen.

It’s the same mentality I have when I do a cabaret show with 4 or 5 other performers on the line-up. I always try to raise my level so that people will remember my performance long after the show. I’ll spend weeks writing and rehearsing new material just so I can blow the competition out of the water. I use those moments as personal motivation, like Michael Jordan in The Last Dance, taking everything personally and using it as ammo to destroy my rivals in the next game. I love it when people come up after those shows and say, “Everyone was awesome tonight but you were the best!” That’s what I’m going for.

I guess the show went over well back in July because it led to several other events with them, including an appearance at their annual user conference in October alongside the CEO. All it took was one time for me to convince them to work with me for good.

As I approached that booking agent in Vegas those were the thoughts that were running through my mind. Convince him to give you one opportunity and you can prove your value forever. I waited for a lull in conversation then calmly walked up and introduced myself.

You know when people are so rude that they won’t even give you the time of day? That’s what this guy was like. He was inconsiderate from the get-go, dismissive of my introduction and hardly listening to what I was saying. I told him that I knew who he was and thought we could work together. He asked what materials I had and I gestured to my card saying “it’s all on my website.” But he was barely listening.

“Listen,” he said, “You’re probably not ready. You need a lot of experience to do this. Do you have my course?”

The fucking audacity of this guy, to try to sell he his freaking course when I was just trying to introduce myself! I knew this guy had put out a $1000 marketing course with general guidance on how to book shows and work with clients, but I’d been too busy actually doing shows to have time to watch a course tell me things I already know. Plus, the reviews were lackluster so I wasn’t about to waste money on something that was already being taught better in other places.

“I don’t need your course,” I said firmly, “I’m already doing it. I just thought it’d be good for us to work together sometime."

“Take the course,” he said, “Then we can talk.”

“I’m good,” I said, “But now you have my card in case you want to do business together sometime.”

I never heard from him, but that’s okay because things kept getting busier for me. Every year since then has been busier than the year before. And I never even took his course! It’s almost like he was completely full of shit.

The problem with people like that is that they seem to think that they’ve found the only way to achieve success. The truth is, there are multiple ways to be successful. You can be the pushy salesman wearing customers out with your pitch until, completely exhausted, they finally work with you. Or, you can go the more fulfilling route and just be really good at your craft so people will remember you and always want to work with you. Either way, you already have everything you need to get to where you want to be.

I just saved you a thousand bucks!

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

An Even Exchange

Several years ago I took two flights to travel to a college show down south. Fortunately we were traveling the night before, because everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Our flights were delayed, our luggage was lost, our rental car wasn’t available on time, and our hotel room wasn’t ready when we finally arrived. Luckily, the next morning our luggage had been delivered to the hotel and we headed to the campus ready to make up for a string of disasters by putting on a great show.

When we arrived at the campus the students excitedly met us and walked us into a large auditorium. It was a massive space with state-of-the-art lights, sounds, and multimedia capabilities. I gazed enthusiastically around the room.

“How many students do you think you’ll have tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, this will be full,” they replied, gesturing to the thousands of empty seats.

I was pumped. It can be really exhausting to fly halfway across the country, deal with the hassles of travel, and summon the energy to do a show — but when a client holds up their end of the bargain and puts on a great event it makes all of the inconveniences worth putting up with.

So, I set up for the show, went backstage, and eagerly waited to begin.

At 10 minutes before showtime I got a text from my wife: “There are only 30 people here.”

I peeked out of the curtain to see a handful of people seated throughout the auditorium, with hundreds of empty seats in-between. The client had greatly overestimated how many people would be in attendance that evening and I ended up doing the show for a small, apathetic group in that massive space. It was such a disappointment.

Since that show we have a running gag about these sorts of shows. It goes something like this:

When you arrive at a campus to do a show the client greets you and says, “I have good news and I have bad news.”

“Okay, give me the good news…” you respond.

“Well we were able to book you in the largest, fanciest, nicest auditorium on campus!”

“Wow, that’s awesome! What’s the bad news?”

“Well, we’re only going to have about 10 students at the show tonight.”

It’s funny because it happens several times a year. Sure, there are some really enjoyable college shows but most of them end up being a poor turnout or a bunch of uninterested kids on their phones.

It happened again this month. A school had me come to their campus at the last minute, instead of doing a virtual show. So I made the long trip to their campus ready to amaze a roomful of students and give them a bright spot in an otherwise miserable year.

However, right as we were walking into the venue the client warned me in an all-too-familiar tone, “Just so you know, we’ve been having very low turnout for all of our events this semester.”

“What do you mean low turnout - like two students?” I said, making a joke.

“Exactly,” she replied, “But at least you still get paid!”

I sighed heavily.

I’d literally only slept 2 hours the night before. I’d been around several hundred people at the airport — in the midst of a global pandemic — so I could give a good show. Plus, I just recently learned that I have a herniated disc in my lower back that may require surgery. It makes standing for long periods of time (read: doing a show) unbearable and traveling quite uncomfortable, too. But, I had mentally pushed all of that aside to make the trip to their campus and give them an entertaining performance.

So you can see why I didn’t feel great about taking a trip somewhere to earn a paycheck for a lame show. I risked my health in multiple ways and left my family behind in Chicago, all for…nothing. When a client doesn’t hold up their end of the bargain it feels disrespectful to the amount of time and effort I’ve put into the event for them.

Let me be clear: I’m not going to stop performing at colleges any time soon. I still enjoy it and they make up a decent part of my income each year. However, I wish many colleges would understand the effort I put in to travel to their campus to do a show and reward that effort with a good event. I’m not just appearing on their campus, doing a show, then vanishing into the night. I’m often journeying long distances by plane or car on little to no sleep, not to mention dealing with the constant annoyances of travel along the way.

When I was in school I thought that performing at campuses was going to be the coolest thing I could do. I would attend shows at my campus and they would be packed, so I just sort of figured that all schools would have a similar turnout at their events, too.

Unfortunately something happened between when I was in school and when I’m performing shows at schools now. I think it must be social media and smart phones. (Read The Coddling of the American Mind for a look at the shift on campuses and what it’s doing to students.) Students don’t attend shows like they used to, unless they’re bribed to be there to win some money or prizes. The people who go to a show for the sake of entertainment seem to be a dying breed. And, if you can get students to come out to shows they’re too scared to fully laugh or have fun like they used to. Forget being able to take risks or do edgy material; the majority of students aren’t into that so if you’re smart you just do a middle-of-the-road show, take your paycheck, and move on. (Jerry Seinfeld is one of many performers who won’t perform at colleges any more.)

I’m not in this for the money. I’m thrilled to make a living doing this but I’m more interested with being onstage and connecting with a roomful of strangers. The biggest joy is to be able to spend an entire day traveling to a new location and use my last remaining ounce of energy to give people an experience they’ll never forget. But I don’t want to waste my skills on an empty room. I want to make it worth your money, but you’re going to have to make it worth my time.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

Taking My Lumps

When I first moved to Chicago I went in search of stage time. I knew that if I wanted to improve I would need to get onstage as often as possible.

Eventually I found a small bar near my apartment that did weekly cabaret shows. After a trial show there the host gave me an open invitation to perform whenever I wanted. So I started going there every single week.

Doing weekly shows allowed me to practice new things and learn how to be onstage in front of an often unruly audience. I learned how to handle being heckled and work with unwilling participants. I learned how to perform for a cynical audience and what to do when things went wrong. And, I learned how to make people care.

I remember one night I was trying a new stunt and no one would pay attention. The bar was a long, narrow space with a small stage way at the back near a few tables and chairs. There were probably 10-15 people scattered through the bar that night and everyone had been talking amongst themselves during all of the acts that had gone before me. By the time I went onstage it was clear that I would need to make a big change to my act in order to get control of the room, or I was going to bomb big time.

So, I changed gears. Without a second thought, I moved off the stage and into the house. I stood on a chair without a microphone, and shouted, “Can everyone see me okay?”

Suddenly everyone grew quiet and turned to look at me. I had momentarily gained their attention and knew that I could not relinquish it.

So, I resorted to another trick. I lowered my voice and began performing. You’d think that the best way to get an audience’s attention is to speak louder. It’s not. The best way is to lower your voice while maintaining your intensity. You want people to lean forward so they can hear you better and really pay attention. It’s counterintuitive, I know, but it really works.

“I’m going to show you something absolutely insane tonight, but I will not speak over you. I demand your attention and your respect for the next five and a half minutes.”

I slowly scanned the crowd as I excitedly whispered those words. You could have heard a pin drop in the room it was so quiet. Everyone was sitting in silent excitement, waiting to see what I would do next.

I proceeded to destroy that crowd for five minutes straight.

Without those weekly shows I wouldn’t have had the confidence to take control of the room. I wouldn’t have recognized the challenging crowd or the solution it required. I wouldn’t have known the power of silence or the “lowering my voice” trick. I needed weeks and weeks of stage time in that bar to understand how to work a room.

Before then I was lucky to have a show once a month. I’d do a show, fail miserably, then have to spend four weeks thinking about my mistakes. By the time I got the chance to perform again I had forgotten everything I’d learned and went back to making those mistakes all over again.

That’s how I feel now, doing in-person shows during the pandemic. I’ve only had five live events since March, with several weeks in between. Each show has had a different set of restrictions, a different demographic, and a different environment. The common denominator with each event is that every attendee (myself included) has worn a mask. When you do a show that relies heavily on audience reactions and feedback, the face coverings can make it quite difficult to know if it’s going well.

It’s part of the reason my virtual show has gotten so good. I’m doing several shows a week, even sometimes up to 4 in a day. Doing that many performances has allowed my script and material to get rock solid. I understand how to work the virtual elements of the show, connect with online participants, and keep momentum going during a show. And now I’m starting to do things that I do for my live shows after I perform them a hundred times, like adding in more jokes, building in extra surprises, and refining the finale. I can say, without question, that my virtual show is much, much better than my in-person socially distanced shows — all because I’ve had more time working on one than the other.

In many ways, doing in-person events right now is like being back in the early days when I was just starting out. I’m learning a bunch of things all at once and trying to retain it for long stretches of time between those events. Right now I’m just onstage taking my lumps. It’s a struggle and the progress is slow, but I’m not worried because I’ve been here before.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

Another Reason To Get Off Social Media

One of my best friends is one of the most likable people I know. Everyone loves him. He’s a good dad, a good husband, a good friend — you get it. He goes above and beyond to put other people first and make anyone he meets feel special along the way.

Something he loves to do is send unsolicited messages on social media to let people know he’s excited for them. He doesn’t just click “like”, he actually takes the time to craft a thoughtful message and congratulate someone on their big moment.

Recently he told me that he’d seen a post from a guy he knew on facebook about a new job. That guy had been his best friend his entire freshman year of college. They’d done everything together. They went to class, partied, and hung out nonstop. So, when my buddy saw him being successful he wanted to send him a congratulatory message.

He wrote a private message to say that he was really happy to see his success, always knew he’d turn his passion into a career, and was really excited to watch his progress. He put a lot of thought into it. (Knowing my friend he probably spent longer on it than he should have. But that’s what makes him a great guy.) Then, he fired it off and went back to his day.

Later that afternoon he heard a ping and saw that he’d gotten a response. His old college friend responded:

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate! But, by the way…how do we know each other?”

When he told me that story I lost my mind. I laughed for five minutes straight. (Add storytelling to the list of things he’s great at.)

Here was my friend just trying to be nice and turned out this guy, whom he had spent many important moments with during college, didn’t even remember him.

He sent back “We went to college together! Keep crushing it!” then removed him as a friend.

That story made me laugh, but it also made me sad. Not only because the relationships in our life can be fleeting, but also that we’ve chosen to shrink those friendships down to lines on a screen. Everyone we meet gets added to our friends list, without a second thought, and they all get the same amount of space on the screen. The stranger you met at college orientation gets the same amount of space that your co-worker or best man gets, and before long it’s hard to distinguish between who matters and who doesn’t. When everything is the same, nothing is special.

Yet another reason to delete your social media and never look back.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

A Ruined Experience

Here’s my latest story of someone ruining The Experience™:

We decided to go to the suburbs this week to browse some book stores. Shopping in the city during the pandemic has been a nightmare, mainly because the stores aren’t designed for people to space themselves out comfortably.

So, we were pleasantly surprised that the shopping experience in the ‘burbs was much more enjoyable. The stores were more spacious, everyone was keeping to themselves, and we were actually able to find what we were looking for.

Everything was going so smoothly that we started store-hopping. We went from a used book store to a craft store to a hardware store and finally to a well-known book store. (I don’t want name them here so we’ll call them Barnes & Noble.)

99% of The Experience™ at Barnes & Noble was good. There was plenty of space to browse, we weren’t constantly getting bumped into by other customers, and their inventory was on point. I was even able to find several books I’d been looking for. But then, I headed to the register to check out and everything went off the rails.

“Hello! How are you today?” I said, as I stepped to the counter smiling beneath my mask.

The clerk responded politely, scanned my books, then turned to look at me.

“Do you have a Barnes & Noble account?” he asked.

I explained that I did not but thanked him for asking. But he pressed further…

“Well, if you signed up today you would actually make money. It’s only $25 but you’d save $27, so even if you never used it again it will have been worth it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said calmly, hoping that was the end of it.

“All I need is your phone number and name and that’s it!” he said. He stood there frozen, as if he couldn’t proceed until I gave him my personal information.

“I think I’m okay,” I repeated.

“I wish I could turn down free money! That must be nice,” he said rudely.

I’d had enough. “Nothing’s free!” I said. “Last time I had an account it was impossible to cancel and you guys wouldn’t stop e-mailing me.”

He muttered to himself, dropped the receipt in the bag, and slid it to me without saying a word.

“Thanks so much,” I said, resorting to my well-practiced midwestern faux-kindness. “Have a great rest of your day.”

I left Barnes & Noble in a foul mood. Everything up to that point had been wonderful. In fact, our entire trip to the suburbs was fantastic. But then, in a few short minutes, The Experience™ had been clouded by my conversation at check out. What a bummer.

But, what can learn from this? At least two things…

First off, the cashier had tried to say that giving my phone number was no big deal. But that’s not true. Giving away your phone number is yet another invasion of privacy and a way for corporations to know more about you. I have a lot of friends who always say, “Who cares? They already have all the information about you!” To which I say, “That doesn’t make it right. And that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my information willingly.” I’m willing to pay two dollars more to make it as hard on them as possible.

And second, my experience — The Experience™ — should matter more to a company than my personal information or meeting a quota for member sign-ups. If you give me the best experience possible — from the moment I arrive at your establishment to the moment I leave — I’ll be your customer for life. No fucking phone number required.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

Less Of The Same

In college, when I was first dating my wife, we used to rent a movie to watch together almost every night. Back then we had to go to Blockbuster to pick something out.

It was always an event. We’d slowly walk the aisles and see what caught our fancy. Sometimes it was something new - an action flick or an Oscar winner, perhaps - and other times we might go for a classic. I remember jolting across the store, excitedly holding up a DVD to show Stephanie.

“This one!” I’d say in a whisper.

She’d smile and get excited, too. Then we’d wait in line, head home, and check another film off our must-see list.

I was thinking this week about how much I miss that.

These days everything feels the same. I shop for groceries, talk to clients, watch movies, read the news, order supplies, and fill my time all in one 1920x1080 window. It’s cold and lifeless and unenjoyable. There’s no separation between one activity and the next. None of it feels special. Everything happens on a screen and it all blurs together. Every single day it’s more of the same.

When you browse through Netflix in search of a new movie, you’re being shown a set of films chosen by an algorithm. It’s all based on your previous viewing history and what a computer thinks you might enjoy. But when we would walk around Blockbuster it wasn’t anything like that. There was no mission — we were waiting for a film to catch our eye and call out to us.

Sometimes it would be the box art, like a shiny case or bright colors. Other times it might be an employee pick or a recommended film. And sometimes we’d just take a gamble on a film and get really lucky. However we chose, though, it was our choice and that made it special.

We spent so much time at Blockbuster that we came up with a game to play while we were browsing the racks. We’d look at the other people in the store and see if we could match them to their car out front, based only on their looks and behavior. Sometimes we’d have to mosey around the store for twenty minutes, just so we could wait for someone to leave and see if we were right.

Those are the little moments that I miss most. Each activity was accompanied by its own unique set of characteristics: a special aroma, an endless list of inside jokes, background noise, and an atmosphere all its own. Now there’s a sameness to everything that makes it hard for me to recall when I stopped doing one activity and started the next. I’ve grown weary of that — I want less of the same.

The pandemic has exacerbated this problem. Running errands right now is a huge hassle. Lines are long, there are too many rules, and the neighborhood still feels weird. It’s just easier to automate those things, so we find ourselves ordering things online to avoid the chaos. It’s just so convenient. But I miss browsing the aisles and picking stuff out for myself. I miss being able to differentiate between the various parts of my day.

It’s not only the pandemic, though. This has been happening for a very long time. That’s why I’m on the search for more mystery. I want more things in my life to remind me of those little moments that make life worth living — typewriters, cameras, classic movies, you name it. And, I even have a podcast in the works, too.

If it seems like I’m always going on about this that’s because it’s literally all I think about. I’m more sedentary than I’ve ever been in my life. All of my work is on a computer right now and a good deal of my spare time seems to involve a screen, too. It’s driving me nuts. So, I’ve been forcing myself to break free of my addictions and search for memorable experiences in other ways.

As I often say, none of my favorite experiences have ever taken place on a screen. Not a single one. In fifty years I’m not going to count any of my screen time amongst my favorite memories. My favorite memories are all moments in the real world — when enthusiasm and serendipity collide in an unexpected and unforgettable fashion. Those are the things I’ll always remember.

There are too many to name here, but I’ll leave you with one…

It’s 2008, I’m meandering around Blockbuster looking for the perfect movie. Stephanie is somewhere else in the store, doing the same. We’re on the hunt.

And then, at the back of the store, I see it. The one. The ideal film, almost glistening in the light.

I reach for it and as I do my hand meets someone else’s hand and I look up to see Stephanie’s face. We die laughing.

“This one!”

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

Variables

Part of my job is being able to walk into literally any venue you could imagine and put on the best show I possibly can. Since I work for a wide range of clients — corporate groups, private events, universities — I end up in some pretty random locations. I’ve performed in Vegas showrooms, rooftop deck, poolside, giant theater, church basements, lecture halls, arenas, airplane hangars, and more.

Early on I remember being very nervous walking into a new location. Everything about the location was foreign to me. I didn’t know how people would be seated, what kind of microphone I’d be using, where to situate myself so everyone could have a good view, etc. During those early shows it felt like I was re-learning everything every time I did a show.

I quickly learned that I needed to eliminate as many variables as possible, just to make my life easier. I intuitively realized that there would always be things out of my control but if I could limit those things then I could give them more of my focus.

So, I started small — with only the things under my immediate control. I worked really hard to have a solid show that I knew inside and out. I had a script that never changed and worked tirelessly to make sure I knew it by heart. Once the show was solid I was able to go onstage without thinking about it. I knew it was good so I could start to enjoy myself, create memorable moments with volunteers, and pay attention to the stuff that was out of the norm.

I also had to learn my gear. I mastered my microphone, my music player, my choreography, the way I select my volunteers, the way I walk onstage, my intro, the length of my show, and more. I rehearsed everything so that there would be no surprises and every time I went onstage I would be confident with the things that were always under my control.

I also learned to deal with clients. (You can’t be afraid to ask a client for what you need. Just frame it as a benefit to them: “I want you to get your money’s worth!” Your clients will respect you for knowing what you need and helping them to have make it a success.) Now I request a certain room layout, stage stairs in certain positions, a particular kind of microphone for volunteers, and request that no service staff can be milling about during the show and that the bar must be closed or moved to another room. (You’d be surprised how many little decisions go into making a show successful!) All of these things are finalized before I arrive at the venue so I have less to worry about.

Once I took control of these things my shows improved dramatically. When I arrived at the venue I wasn’t worried about my show, the microphone, or other things. Instead, I could survey the room and say to myself “Hmm, okay not very good acoustics in here, how can we fix that?” or “Wow, that column is going to make it hard to see…I’ll have to take extra steps to make sure I keep that side of the room engaged!” Since I knew everything else was good to go, I was left to turn my attention to the one variable in my job: the room I’m performing in.

Sometimes I’ll be onstage and something will go horribly wrong, but it rarely has to do with the show itself. It’s usually something in the room. Someone broke a wineglass, the venue loses their electricity, the audience has had a lot to drink before the show, the service staff interrupts the performance….you never know what’s going to happen. But, since my show is solid and I’ve worked on the things that I can control, I’m always ready to deal with whatever surprises might present themselves.

A few years ago I saw a fantastic show on Broadway. The performer was halfway through the second act when someone called out from the back row of the orchestra, “Help me! Someone help me!” Everyone in the audience gasped and grew quiet, but the performer didn’t freak out. He calmly stepped to the edge of the stage and, almost in a whisper, asked, “Is everyone okay?”

A moment later a stagehand stepped out from the wings and whispered in his ear. He addressed the whole audience: “Someone wasn’t feeling well and had to step out. Everything is fine.” Then, he picked up where he left off and continued with the show. He never lost the attention of the audience, nor any of the momentum he had worked so hard to build. We were under his control at all times, all because he knew his act inside and out so he could give his full attention to the unique nature of that particular audience on that specific night.

Look, I’m sure some other performers will read this and say “Yeah, yeah, these are obvious things…” but that’s simply not true. No one tells you this stuff, at least no one told me. I had to figure it out step by step, show by show. I had to make mistakes and learn from them quickly. I learned it all on my own, but I’m writing it here so you won’t have to.

The point is, no matter your field, there will always be things that are out of your control. So, the goal should be to master the things that are under your control, that way you can direct your focus to the variables.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---

It's Always Your Fault

My wife and I always joke around that we want to be great at what we do but we don’t have 10,000 hours to spare.

“We’re gonna have to do it in a thousand!”

As a result, we dedicated ourselves over the years to quickly learning from our mistakes and improving on each and every endeavor. For me, that meant being very self-critical and taking ownership of anything that went wrong. And man, have things gone wrong.

Here’s a brief, incomplete list of some of my biggest failures:

• • Forgot to charge the batteries for my microphone and it quit working halfway through the show.
• • Left an important prop in the car and panicked mid-show when I realized I wouldn’t be able to continue as planned.
• • Did an entire show with my pants unzipped.
• • Also, I ripped the seat of my pants onstage once.
• • Bombed on live TV.
• • Bombed in front of live audiences.
• • Got lost on the way to a gig and was over and hour late.
• • Went way over my allotted time for a show.
• • Went way under my allotted time for a show.

I could go on and on. I’ve failed more times than you can imagine. However, I’ve always held true to one personal philosophy: It’s always my fault. ALWAYS.

I should have charged the batteries and should have double or triple-checked my props. Ever since that fateful day I always check my fly now. I’ve learned to cope with bombing, always leave earlier than I need to when headed to a gig, and have learned to nail the length of my show…down to the exact minute.

I have no one to blame for those experiences except myself. But as soon as they happened, I took responsibility for my failure, fixed it, and moved on. Sometimes I only have to fix one thing and other times I have to fix several things. But that’s what it takes to get better in a hurry, especially when you don’t have 10,000 hours to spare.

The same philosophy holds true for other things that might seem out of your control, too.

Have a difficult client? You must have attracted their interest somehow or not done enough to educate them on your services. It’s your fault.

Have a frustrating venue or tech problems? It’s your responsibility to communicate to the client and prepare beforehand. Take the blame because it’s your fault.

Keep finding yourself in work environments that you don’t want to be in? Change how you do things. Be strict with what projects you take on and what clients you do business with. Or, don’t complain about the work you’re doing. Either way, it’s your fault.

The sooner you learn that it’s always your fault, the better. You can keep going around blaming other people when things go wrong, but you’ll never get better that way. If you want to get to the next level you’re going to have to start being honest with yourself and that starts by knowing that the blames rest squarely on your shoulders.

---

RELATED POSTS

---

About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

---