Bit of Dani trivia - because apparently I’m referring to myself in the third person now - yesterday I was on the phone with a director and producer working on a documentary about laughter: why it matters, what motivates those of us who dedicate our lives to it, and where that starts. The director is also a comedian based in New Zealand, so we had plenty to talk about.
But I’ll be honest, I was distracted.
I had just finished a job, and the producers sent over the contract. It was made out to Dani Cline. Which is…not my name.
This job had already been stressful. Lots of “do we really need her here?” energy. So naturally, in my mind, the misspelling confirmed everything. I could feel the self-righteous winds of paranoia filling my sails every time I looked at Cline.
I have, at times, wished I were related to Patsy Cline. In reality, I’m descended from Russian and Hungarian ancestors who couldn’t name a country singer if you held them at gunpoint, which, historically speaking, was not an uncommon situation for them, though I’m guessing music trivia was not the focus.
As I am wont to do, I was taking this way too personally. How could they not know my name? This just proves…blah blah blah.
Back to the interview where these thoughts are running on a loop in my head. And yet, the words coming out of my mouth were about the importance of having a sense of humor. How being able to laugh at ourselves is essential to leadership, connection, and perspective.
Then I had what can only be called a physician, heal thyself moment.
I was living a real time example of the choice we each have: we can let ourselves fall into a pit of all the worst possible outcomes or interpretations of a situation, or we take a beat and consider if there is a way to use humor and get a different outcome.
Thankfully I didn’t overshare any of this. I didn’t need to. As soon as I realized I could take my own advice and respond lightly to the error, rather than alienate a person or sound like a self-involved diva, the problem almost completely dissolved.
I jumped off the ZOOM and sent a quick text to the producer.
“All good with the contract—although it’s Klein, not Cline.”
He wrote back: “Yes, I know. So sorry. I dictated that part in a rush and didn’t spell-check.”
GAH! I hadn’t even considered a tech snafu that had absolutely nothing to do with me.
“No problem,” I replied. “I’d love to be Patsy Cline’s long-lost someone.”
No one is falling out of their chair laughing at that. But it did earn me a “ha ha” emoji. More importantly, it was confirmation of the value of using levity in a loaded moment.
Yes, this was minor. The name would’ve been fixed eventually by a lawyer or accountant. But instead of putting someone on the defensive by being intense, offended, and decidedly unfunny, I did something else.
I created an ally instead of an enemy. I communicated what I needed with a light touch instead of an anvil.
I’m not suggesting this works in every situation. There are absolutely moments when the stakes are higher, the pressure is real, and “no one should be laughing!” That’s a direct quote from me to my sons last week after they inhaled helium from a balloon and started talking like munchkins minutes after a legitimate health scare.
This story isn’t about those moments.
It’s about all the others, the everyday ones, where we can pause and ask: Is there any way to find levity here?
Even asking that question can shift something. It opens our minds to the possibility that whatever is happening isn’t catastrophic. It’s not final. It’s not hopeless. What that actually feels like is relief.
