Standing Up For Myself

This is also going in my report:

So, it was time to step up again.  For the first time in a while, I’d reached that stage.  And would it be a mic drop moment?  Read on and find out…

I’d done some stand up a few times before at open mic nights and I felt it was time to have another go, this time in an actual competition.  How would it go?  What would I say?

Fortunately, at one of the open mic’s I’d done a set of one liners and puns that was well received- and that by a room full of other open micers- experienced and not so much.  Who needs actual spectators when a room full of budding comics laugh at my material and provide pats on the back afterwards?

Back in the now, I’m thinking, “that set worked, people liked it, even the MC made a comment about how difficult pun comedy is.  Why reinvent the wheel?  I’ll just polish up the same set”.  And being one of those freaks who saves notes from such events, remembering what worked wasn’t an issue.

It had been a while and as mentioned it was a competition, RAW and with no recent form lines to get a read from, RAW was very fitting.  I had heard about RAW at the previous open mic I’d seen a previous winner spend her set doubled over laughing at her phone.  It must have had some hilarious notes on the screen, but I’ll never know.

Part of that polishing was rewording a few gags to make them a bit better- if you’re not going forwards, you’re not falling off the stage, or something like that.  The other part was rehearsing.  Went over it and over it and over it.  I had rehearsing in an empty room as there is no feedback, no laughter to feed off.  No spontaneity.   I was just standing up for myself.

Had been sick all week and the week before that and the week after that and after that which wasn’t bad for a 24-hour bug.  I started to use Michael Jordan winning a finals match having been bed ridden with the flu and thought even though I wasn’t that bad, if there can’t be a bit of overegging of an analogy, what can you have?  It was a worry.  Would my voice last a few minutes?  Should I even go or should I cancel?  No, stuff it.  I’m going.  If I’m going to die, it might as well be on stage and hopefully not figuratively.  Literally, I could live with (think about that one).

Needing to be at the venue to register by 7:40, I got there early enough to comfortably make that cut off by a good five of six seconds.  All the performers had a briefing before getting started.  Don’t be too crude.  Check.  Have fun.  Check.   Flub your lines?  Don’t worry.  Check.  Need notes?  Don’t worry?  Check.  Try and avoid political jokes or jokes about races or religions etc.  CHECK.  I think we’re good to go.

Good to go apart from people asking about being nervous.  “No”.  “I’m good”.  “Not too bad, I’ve tried this before”.  “NO, I AM NOT NERVOUS BUT STOP ASKING ME”.  OK, I didn’t yell that at anyone but I was thinking it.  It was starting to get annoying.

Waiting for my turn, I sit through all the other acts.  There was, for example, an Iranian born and bred man making jokes about his heritage including being presumed to be a terrorist and another bloke who spent his entire set talking about his own (I’ll put this delicately) self-love.  They were in the briefing, weren’t they?  The Iranian was actually very good and I told him later he was the bomb.

Eventually, I’m up.  And really glad about the briefing.  My notes were supposed to be discreetly wrapped around the mic so no one else could see them.  But I fumbled that and nearly had that mic drop moment, I alluded to earlier.  I also flubbed a few lines- almost as if the briefing mentioning it was instructive that these things must happen.  But “Don’t worry and have fun, right?”  Right.  So, I did.  I did have fun and got some laughs and my puns and jokes were well received.  “Hey, they like me”, even the other competitors did.

Strangely, one competitor, Matt, came up and apologised for the audience not showing the same respect as they did for everyone else.  Really, I hadn’t noticed.  I heard plenty of laughter and no interruptions but maybe he saw something I didn’t.

Finally, it’s time for winners to be announced.  The Iranian obviously was a real blast for the judges, he’s through.  Then another finalist is announced.  Then the next, “And our third and final comic making the next round is Ma..(“YES, Wahoo”)..tt” (rats, I thought she was about to say “Malcolm”.

A few handshakes and well dones are exchanged and then it’s home time.  Walking back to the car, I see Mr Owner Operator walking in the same direction who gives me a look as if to say, “you do recognise me don’t you?”, my look back says “Yes I do, and I don’t want to know about that happens when you go your own way”.

As I’m debriefing later about what went well and what didn’t, I recall that the pre-show meeting also mentioned that they’re open to be contacted to give feedback. I take them up on that offer and ask what they thought.

They respond that it appears that I just Googled “Twenty Best Dad Jokes”.  It appears that people’s choice is nicer than critical acclaim.  Ouch.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

Malcolm Makkinga is a full-time finance broker, part time joker and experienced octopus wrestler. He takes his work seriously but not himself. For a seriously human approach to your home loan needs call 0430 464 280, go to Facebook or send an email to malcolm.makkinga@aussie.com.au.