Why Even Hit Reply?

Why do we hesitate giving thanks to the people who we follow or admire, who help us or inspire us, who make us laugh or chortle or say WTF?

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I received an email from a reader a little while back that made my day. Jared wrote:

“Dear R-drew, D-drew,

I just finished your book Humor That Works, and I have to say - WTF, WTF, WT(F+1)! [...]

I am writing to say thank you. Your book has been an inspiration and infused much of my work with new energy and humor.”

He went on to share a few great examples of how he incorporates humor in his work, including:

• Naming his budget focus project "Expedition Eagle Eye" because he needs to watch the budget like a hawk.

• Planning ice breakers for a large training session using giant Jenga with discussion questions on each block.

• Renaming his firstborn child Drew…

Okay, I might have added that last one.

But these types of emails and comments make my day. I save them all in a folder that I go back to occasionally, particularly when I’m feeling stressed, behind on a project, or just want to inflate my ego a little bit bigger.

They help me see the value that I bring. Usually. But earlier this week, after one particularly challenging day, I had the opposite reaction. Instead of the usual “pat on the back” feeling I get, I found myself asking,

“Wait, how much of an impact am I really having?”

Tens of thousands of people have read my books.
My emails have been read hundreds of thousands of times.
And my videos have millions of views (this one TEDx talk in particular has 14M views)

And yet, I haven’t received millions of emails (unless you count spam messages promising clients, love, or millions of dollars if I just send my bank account number.) That TEDx talk has 14 million views but only ~6,100 comments (that’s only .04%). And, as far as I know, no one has named their child after me.

So I started to wonder: is it me? Am I not as brilliant and witty and entertaining as one YouTube comment claimed me to be? Or is it a behavioral thing?

Personally, I could probably think of hundreds of authors, speakers, comedians, actors and musicians who have had a profound impact on some aspect of my life. Just within the last few days, I’ve found inspiration from Trevor Noah, Vinh Giang, Dolly Chugh, Gino Wickman, Taylor Swift, Joel Byars, and Jon Stewart.

And yet, I’ve written to exactly none of them.
I haven’t commented on a post or talked about them to other people.
At most I offered a silent nod of approval when they came up on my social media feed.

Why is that? Why do we hesitate to give thanks to the people we follow or admire, who help us or inspire us, who make us laugh or chortle or say WTF?

I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, I think I worry that the person doesn’t care to hear it (or that it will never reach them).

That they’re so big and successful and awesome that I’d be bothering them for even mentioning that I enjoyed the thing they did.
Or, worse, that they’d think I’m lame for “gushing” over them.
Or worse-er: that they’d think I was patronizing them for feeling the need to say anything at all.

Which I know is very rarely the truth. I know I personally appreciate it whenever someone sends an email sharing how they’ve been inspired by my work, or when they post a comment about what they enjoyed, or even when they simply say, “I enjoyed your speech” as they hurry out of the session so they can be the first one to the dessert table during the break.

In the instances that I ignored my hesitations and have told various creators what their work has meant to me, I’ve never had a bad experience. I’ve had plenty of people who never responded (which is okay, I assume they’re busy), but no one has ever replied, “How dare you patronize me with your compliments, I hope you get a papercut the next time you read my book.”

Which, the joke is on them, I read on Kindle so no papercuts for me. Repetitive strain injury on the other hand…

No, I know that praise tends to be appreciated at all levels, but I still don’t give it.

So, maybe it’s not that I’m not having an impact (sorry for the double negative, Mrs. Sherman). Maybe it is a bit of a behavioral thing. Maybe it’s a bit of both (or something else entirely).

But given my own behaviors, I don’t think it’s entirely common for people to proactively reach out to the people who inspire them. Which means that you (and me) probably have way more of an impact than we’ll ever fully know or realize.

If one person sends you a note of gratitude, there are probably tens or hundreds or thousands of more people who were equally grateful but never pressed send.

So I shouldn’t judge my impact solely by the number of messages I get, but the quality of the messages I receive.

And, from now on, I’m committing to thanking more of the people who have had an impact on me, even if they are a multi-platinum selling artist who is currently in love with a football player. (Are they still together? I haven’t paid attention since the Super Bowl.)

I’m also committing to passing the gratitude forward by showcasing the messages I receive. 

Not so that you can see how awesome some people think I am (hi, mom!). But because these messages are so often filled with their own insights.

I would have never thought of using Jenga as an icebreaker. Jared did and it’s brilliant. By sharing his email with you, we can all learn from him and many of the other incredible people who have chosen to intentionally make humor part of their lives.

To that end, you may notice that things look a little different this week. No, I didn’t get a haircut. You’ve received this email via Substack.

We’ve made the switch for two primary reasons:

1. We want to give you a chance to share your reactions, thoughts, and insights with other like-minded people. You are absolutely still welcome to just hit reply and send a message to me directly. But I also invite you to comment on the post on substack so that others can gain from your experiences.

2. Ever since I’ve started writing more personally and regularly, the newsletter and community have been growing (currently at 12,000+). In the past, if you missed one of my newsletters, your only option was to invent a time machine so that you could sign up for my newsletter earlier (after stopping WW2 of course). Now, with Substack, you can go back and check out any of our previous posts from this year, such as the reflections on my Dry Bar Comedy taping.

If that all sounds awful to you, you can unsubscribe below.

But because I like to test things, can you help us see how the Substack process works and comment on this post with someone who has inspired, motivated, or influenced you? Just click the Leave a Comment button below.

A more humble person would say to pick someone besides me. But if we at Humor That Works have inspired you at all, 100% please share. I’m looking for more comments to add to my folder.

Like Lady Gaga would say “I live for the applause, applause, applause…”

And as Jared said, “Know that you, your team, and the work you do is appreciated and I hope this message sends some humor your way, because if anyone deserves a little humor in return, it’s the original humor engineer.”

=Drew

PS. This month’s Virtual Happy Hour will be taking place on Wednesday (not Thursday) at 11am ET, where we’ll be talking about what it means to “Do Something Great.” Join us here.