Better a Broken Arm than a Boring Life

Finding the trade-off in risk and having fun.

Quick note: I leave today for a few speaking events in France and Germany, but I have a week to spare in between. Where in Europe should I go? Bonus points if it’s a place I can speak or do stand-up.

A couple of weeks ago, Pineapple (my 3.8 year old daughter) broke her arm.

Don’t worry, she’s fine now. In fact, she’s doing great. She has a pink cast that she likes so much she refuses to let anyone sign it (including her not-so-famous father).

The cast stays clean, but not our faces.

But in the immediate aftermath of the stumble, trip, and crack of the bone, Pretzel (my wife) and I were both second-guessing our choices that led to the moment. For Pretzel, she worried that my daughter’s fall was her fault. She told me, “I feel terrible. We were playing ‘Lobo’ and I was chasing her. What if I hadn’t been?”

I understood exactly how she felt because I wasn’t even home when it happened. I was traveling to visit my mom and then to an event (the one where I spoke about emotional intelligence for logical people). I wondered, “Should I have even left? I could have helped if only I had been there.”

As we spoke on the phone, late at night after Pineapple had fallen asleep from emotional exhaustion and Pretzel was finally on her way home from the evening trip to the hospital, we both came to the same conclusion:

We’d rather raise a daughter who runs and falls than one who never runs at all.

Because the goal isn’t to avoid every broken bone. The goal is to live, to play, to be a kid.

That doesn’t mean we don’t care about safety. Of course we do. If your butt is on a bike seat, you better have a helmet on your head. We hold hands crossing the street and understand the dangers of being a Cincinnati Bengals fan (maybe this is our year).

But there’s a big difference between “being safe” and “being stagnant.”

Safe Or Boring?

I see the same thing happen at work, all the time.

So many people spend their careers in “avoid the broken arm” mode. They tiptoe through their to-do lists, stay quiet in meetings, and keep their heads down in case a bold idea accidentally gets noticed, challenged, or *gasp* actually implemented.

They don’t run. They don’t leap. They don’t dare.

And as a result… they don’t laugh much either.

They work to “not fail” instead of working to thrive. They’re managing risk instead of embracing reward. They’re not playing to win. In fact, they’re not playing at all.

Now, I’m not saying you should break your arm at work (this is not a ploy to get worker’s comp). But I am saying you should allow yourself a little more fun, a little more levity, a little more play.

Try something new. Say something bold. Tell a joke. Make it weird (but HR-appropriate weird).

Because, just like Pineapple, you’ll heal from the stumbles. You’ll learn, you’ll grow, you’ll improve. But you’ll never get back the time you spent sitting still.

Now if you’re still warming up to the idea of sprinting full-speed into the unknown, that’s okay too. You don’t have to go from spreadsheets to “stand-up special” overnight.

Three Ways to Add Humor Without Breaking Anything

As a gentle nudge, here are a few simple, low-risk ways to add more humor into your work:

1. Keep a humor notebook. Jot down funny things you see, hear, or think of. Whether it’s a pun, a coworker’s hilarious typo, or a wild Slack comment, keeping track helps you notice the humor that’s already around you… and gives you a backlog of joy for future use.

2. Listen to a comedy podcast during your commute. Replace one news segment of existential dread with a few laughs from comedians or funny interviews. The ensuing laughter helps you to relieve stress and reset from the day.

3. Add a quote or pun to the bottom of your emails. Start with something groan-worthy (like this one from my TEDx talk: “Converting 51, 6, and 500 into Roman numerals makes me LIVID”). You’ll be surprised how many people start looking forward to your updates.

Have other easy ways you add humor in your work? Let me know in the comments.

So yes, our daughter broke her arm. But what’s worse than a fracture? A life that’s too well-protected to ever get exciting. Don’t bubble-wrap your workday. Take a leap. Add some humor. And if all else fails, blame it on the game of Lobo.