Hey Reader!

Let’s be honest, this week has been the kind of week where you just need to curl up in your cozy pj’s and turn to your favorite emotional support shows.

One of those shows for me is The Office. Not just because Michael, Dwight, and Jim will have me rolling in minutes, but because it brings about a certain familiarity. True story: In my 20s, I moved to Seattle, sight unseen, with only an apartment lease and a handful of interviews I’d lined up for the week I arrived (RIP Monster.com). I ended up getting hired at a paper company and worked there for three years. To this day, you cannot convince me that the writers of The Office didn’t also work there because so many of the shenanigans are eerily familiar.

Truthfully, you could probably pull any episode out of The Office (or Parks and Rec, or any other mockumentary-style show) and pull the same lesson. The mockumentary format collapses the safe distance between the characters and us. It lets us read the room, not because someone tells us what’s going on, but because the camera quietly exposes it.
​
As a nod to my former MLM days, I chose this clip from Season 2, Episode 17, where Michael is recruiting the team to sell calling cards (side note, I love that Ryan says, “who uses calling cards anymore?” under his breath because that highlights even more how ridiculous this moment is), and he’s trying desperately to prove it’s not a scam. Then Jim walks up and casually draws a triangle shape around Michael’s.

Without anyone saying a word, the camera cuts to Michael and you watch the realization bloom on his face. No dialogue, just the truth revealed.

​

This moment works because the camera trusts us to connect the dots. We get to discover the truth instead of having it be handed to us in a tidy monologue.

That’s what great storytelling does. It doesn’t overexplain, rather, it builds a moment and lets the audience feel the shift.

As speakers, our instinct is often to narrate everything we think the audience needs to know. But the power is in the moment before you speak: the pause, the breath, the subtle shift in your posture, the change in position on the stage.

This week, try building a beat into your story where you stop explaining and let the realization drop on its own. What’s the moment where you can hold the silence just long enough for the truth to land?

Find it.
Hold it.
And let the audience to meet you.

I'm grateful that you've been hanging with me for three months now, in this fun experiment.

Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate.

Until next week,