How I Went From Shy To Joking Around With Strangers

Today, fellow humans, I want to talk about something counterintuitive. Drinking Poison. That’s right.

“But why would you drink poison? If there was one thing you shouldn’t be drinking, IT WOULD BE POISON!”

Well, yes and no.

If you take too much poison, you’ll die. Completely agree. That’s why if a dangerous snake bites you, you will need to get the antidote. BUT. Antidotes are often created using poison.

One common way of creating antidotes is to give small doses of poison to large animals (horses or sheep, for example). That way they’ll develop antibodies, which in turn can be used to create an antidote.

So, oversimplified, one could say that a lot of poison will kill you, but a little will make you immune.

[Note: I am using this as an analogy. Don’t drink actual poison. Don’t start French kissing snakes. Also, I’d advise against falling down small distances repeatedly so that one day you will become immune to falling and, therefore, will be able to fly. I suspect that to be stupid.]

I wanted to create that image because it can be applied emotionally as well. Exposure therapy involves you voluntarily exposing yourself to a small dose of that which frightens you. Then, once you’re not so frightened by the small dose anymore, you’ll seek out a bigger dose. You’ll expose yourself to that until it becomes less scary, too. After that, you seek out an even bigger one. And so on.

What would this look like in real life?

“Okay, sweet stuff.” You’ll say, “But how bout a little example?”

Sure. In school, I had learned social situations to be very stressful (they didn’t teach that in class; I learned that all by myself). So, I didn’t always feel very comfortable in them. In fact, they often made me quite anxious.

After graduating, I worked as a waiter for a little while. In the beginning it was very stressful.

I remember the first table I served. I was insanely nervous. Out of fear of them judging me for being nervous, I blurted out, “You’re my first table. Ever.” They told me I was doing great and best of luck. They were very sweet.

The second table I waited on, I was a teeny-tiny bit less nervous. I still stumbled over my words and felt embarrassed too, but it wasn’t as bad as the first one. The third one actually went alright.

Then came a table with a big group sitting at it. I went back to being super nervous. But it went alright. When the next big table came, I was a little bit calmer. Smaller tables were even less stressful now that I had done big ones.

On the second day, just walking up to tables and bringing them food felt comfortable. So, I looked for a way to push myself again. If a joke popped into my head that would make me nervous to tell, I would tell it.

They weren’t rude jokes. But it went beyond just saying “hi” and bringing food, which was enough for me to feel anxious.

After a while, joking around a little felt natural. A few days later, a bunch of members of a biker gang walked in. They looked just like the movies. They wore black leather cuts; they looked dangerous and, get this, they rode bikes! Can you believe it?

Now, they didn’t make me nervous anymore. What made me nervous was that I knew my brain would find something that I was afraid to say, and then I was going to have to say it.

Which is exactly what happened. When I saw them, I immediately thought of the only biker show I had watched: Sons of Anarchy. So, my mind leaned in, “Hey, you know what would be fun? If you asked those big, mean-looking guys whether they’ve watched it too.”

I was like, “Fuck, now I have to go and do that.” I felt like I was at my first table again. I was stuttering; I stumbled over my words. If I remember correctly, I picked the biggest guy to talk to because he made me the most nervous. And because I was so nervous, I could barely get a comprehensible sentence out. He just looked at me, confused. Eventually, the woman next to him came to my rescue, “I think he’s asking whether we’ve seen Sons of Anarchy.”

The big guy’s face lit up. “Yeah, dude! We love that show. It’s awesome!”

Apparently they were big fans. I talked to them a bit more. When I walked to another table, my knees were still shaking. But there was a smile on my face.

After two weeks, I found myself comfortably joking around with people everywhere, not just at the restaurant. I had gotten so comfortable with talking to strangers that I didn’t even think about it anymore.

Final Note

It’s a great concept and can be applied in many circumstances. However, I want to emphasize three things:

1. Not all environments are created equal.

The restaurant worked great because I had a huge amount of interactions, and I didn’t know these people personally. This meant I was free to experiment. (Again, I looked for things that made me feel nervous because I could be embarrassed. I didn’t challenge myself by trying to make other people uncomfortable.)

So, ideally you would look for something where you can fail safely. Trying out your new comedy routine for the first time in an important meeting might not be the best idea.

2. Be patient.

It is going to take some time. It will feel difficult; it will feel as if you’re making no progress; you might think that you’re never going to get there. Be patient. It will take longer than you want it to.

3. It does not matter where you start.

Don’t beat yourself up over having to start small. It’s not about where you start, but about where you’re going. And as long as you make a little progress each time, you’ll make it very far.

Let’s say you’re afraid of small, confined spaces. You want to work on that. Some people will only feel a slight discomfort. They might start by sitting in an elevator for two minutes.

Other people are very afraid. They can’t even think about elevators. They might start by just thinking the word “elevator.” They might practice that a couple of times. After that, they might imagine themselves looking at an elevator from a distance. Then, they will imagine them standing a bit closer. And then even closer.

If you are too hard on yourself or if you expect too much from yourself, you are just going to feel worse. (I know, because I have done so myself plenty of times.)

Start with the smallest version that still makes you a little nervous. Start there and keep going.