Marketing Your Misery!

The Best Worst idea is a weekly podcast exploring how our worst ideas often give way to our best ideas. What's your best worst idea? Want to find out? Let's go You're so ugly, you could be a modern art masterpiece. You look like a blueberry. Who's gonna take his place? Z is Jesus, you this. This is my I want to introduce you to a concept that revolutionized my life as a creative person. It's the kind of thing that can be implemented in just about all aspects of your life. It's something I like to call marketing your misery. Let's face it, we all know that life can kick is when you're down. We all have times in our life when we just need to vent our frustration to unburden ourselves of a great wrong that was done to us. Much like a pressure release valve. The question is, how do we do this? And what form does it take? Well, we all know that person that just complains about everything. They suck all the oxygen out of the room. Like a psychic vampire, they drain your lifeforce, they complain so much, that it's unconscious, they don't even know they're doing it. But what I'm talking about is the exact opposite of that. I'm not talking about straight up complaining, I'm talking about marketing, your misery. It's the reason one person is a Debbie Downer. And the other is a funny self deprecating storyteller, who really knows how to paint a picture of human life. And the amazing thing about this is, you feel great after you tell the story. You get to vent and complain about your problems. But you do it in a way that's funny and compelling and relatable. Most stand up, comics do it to great effect. Some of them are depressed and angry inside. But where you get to see on the outside is a performance of their pain, a marketing of their own specialized brand of misery. This is how I approach any type of story that I want to tell. You wait patiently for the right time to inject your story. You don't want it to feel forced or like a performance, but you also don't want it to feel completely out of place. So your moment comes, you set the scene, you have all the key moments of your story in place, then you begin knowing instinctively mind you that you must make yourself the butt of the joke. This is key. Because people don't always relate to being king of the hill or on top of the world. But they sure as hell know what it's like to have the weight of the world on their shoulders. They know what it's like when the bastards try to grind them down. So if you're successful in this endeavor, your audience laughs at all the right moments, maybe even a few you didn't expect. They're laughing at your pain. But they empathize and love to hear about all of the high jinks and shenanigans you seem to get involved with on a daily basis. You want to know the added benefit to this technique. It actually works on complete strangers. You don't have to save all these stories up for just your friends. They make excellent icebreakers. And I'll proven why. Because at a party or gathering of people who don't know each other people just aren't comfortable. of checking each other out, or seeing who's worth talking to and who's worth ignoring. And if you're like me, who was painfully shy in these situations, you're afraid no one will want to talk to you at all. So sometimes telling one of these misery marketing stories, as I call them, is exactly what the doctor ordered. I was once invited to a small backyard barbecue by a friend. I didn't want to go wasn't feeling particularly social. But my friend calls me from the party and asked if I'm going to come or not. I asked him how many people are there because I don't like big crowds. I think he tells me six. So I agree. I change and get ready for small Sunday barbecue. The address was a place in Bel Air or I turned up the street I was forced to stop and a valet opened my car door and shoved a ticket in my hand. That to be clear. I wasn't really used used to this kind of thing. I lived in LA Yes, but I still work my day job and I get to have any kind of real success in the industry up to this point. But my friend, on the other hand, had enjoyed a lot of commercial success. He was fearless, and seems to thrive in these kinds of environments. So as I entered the Bel Air home, I quickly realized this was not a small gathering, but a huge end of summer BBQ bash, being thrown by a prominent film producer. The entire guest list was made up of a list film and TV people, all of which I recognized immediately. I felt a bell shaking tremor, my ass puckered with anxiety and panic. When I eventually spotted my friend, the one that assured me this was a small six person party, he was pointing at me, and he was laughing. If you could see the look on your face right now, that was all he could say. I couldn't believe it. One thing was for sure. If he told me what this party was beforehand, I would never have gone. Before long. I'm speaking to a couple of actresses from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And I turned on my friend and I say quietly, whatever you do, don't leave me alone. Why you ask? Well, here I was making small talk with two beautiful and talented actresses from a highly successful TV show that was still currently on the air. What's not the like? Well, if I'm being brutally honest, I was terrified. I was terrified that they would all instinctively know that I did not belong there, that I was a fraud. And that by rights, I should be marched out of there in full view of the other guests. Funny thing is, and I believe this is true, that when you find yourself at such an exclusive event, other people simply assume you must be somebody by the simple fact that you're standing there. And so it was at this point, I turned and saw that my friend had vanished, leaving me alone with these two lovely actresses who I was convinced were going to become bored with me and lead me standing alone and helpless, in the middle of the greatest party I had ever not wanted to go to was also at this point. I decided it was a good time to tell these two ladies, my syphilis story. The syphilis story. On my 30th birthday, I decided I should use the health insurance for my corporate day job and actually get a physical. Up until that point, I hadn't had any real medical issues. So this was to be a regular checkup. Upon arrival, as you might expect, I was poked and prodded by my doctor. He eventually turned to me and with a straight face, he asked me if I was sexually active. I was a little embarrassed to be honest, but I answered all of his questions. I told him that in fact, yes, I was sexually active. He said, one partner, multiple partners. Question mark. I tried to be funny, I said, multiple partners just not at the same time. He didn't even crack a hint of a smile. He said, while I should have you know, Mr. Hanner, there's been a syphilis outbreak in Los Angeles. And we really should have you tested for it. Well, I was all for it. I said, go ahead. That's why I'm here. Test me for anything and everything I want to know. Well, he nodded, filled out some paperwork and told me to go downstairs to the lab where they could draw some blood for testing. So down the stairs I went, I walked into the lab only to find the entire place packed. What's the nuts with other people waiting to get blood drawn? I gave them the kind of stink guy that told them instantly that I resented every last one of them for making me have to wait. So I handed my paperwork to the receptionist, an older woman, probably in her late 60s, and I find a patch a wall to lean up against as all of the chairs were taken. Well, not a minute later, I heard the receptionist call out my name, Francis Hannah. I'm ecstatic. This must be what it means to have the good insurance. I give everyone in that room alone tells them that they are all suckers. When I arrive at the check in desk, the receptionist looks at me square in the eye. And even though I am less than three feet away from her, she is yelling, and she says,

Mr. Hanna, you're gonna have to go back upstairs and sign a consent form for your syphilis test.

I looked at this woman in stunned disbelief. I was mortified. I wanted to yell at her for her lack of decision But I knew it would only make it worse. I can feel the eyes of the entire room on me. And they were all too happy to see me taking down in such a cruel and unusual way. I sidestepped my way out of the lab and went upstairs to get the consent form. But then I had to go back down to the lab, and wallow in my own shame. It was like shitting your pants in gridlock traffic. It's happening and write a goddamn thing you can do about it. Now, this was a Thursday. It didn't take me long to realize how hilarious the story actually was. I was dying to tell people but I had to wait until the test results came back to make sure that I didn't actually have syphilis. Well, it took till Tuesday. I did not have syphilis. But I did get the story out of it.