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The 15 minutes of fame garnered by my blog, my books, and my social media success lead strangers to reach out and ask to meet me from time to time. Lately, I've been saying no because I've been in my book-writing cave, pounding away on my next book Mind Over Medicine: Scientific Proof You Can Heal Yourself.
But awhile back, I said yes and met this lovely woman Ali Berlin, who I developed an instant girl crush on. One awesome thing about my life is that the people I attract are ALWAYS just amazing, fascinating, big-hearted, open-minded, awake, conscious beings who I instantly adore like we're BFF's. Even though that's the case, Ali was exceptional.
Not only did she not lead off our new friendship by asking me my least favorite question — "So, what do you do?" She also was a good sport about jumping right in with my typical atypical introductory question.
You see, I've never liked the question "So, what do you do?"
This cocktail party question has always made me crazy. It's as if my job description is my life description, as if what I do is who I am. Which is just a load of crap.
Not only do I not have one single answer to that question; I just don't want to be put in a box.
Long ago, when I was working full time as a busy OB/GYN, while also balancing a full time professional art career with gallery representation by eight galleries, I discovered that the worst possible answer to this question for me was "I'm a doctor."
SNORE!
When you tell people you're a doctor, they hoist you up on a pedestal, hide their drink and stamp out their ciggie, and start telling you about their colon polyp or how they ripped all the way through their vagina during childbirth. Then they try to pin you down to get free medical advice.
They make assumptions about you - that you're a brilliant, rich, arrogant, workaholic, self-sacrificing, Republican, go-getter, do-gooder who probably has a chip on her shoulder. And they pretty much treat you that way, even when you tell them flat out that you're not that person.
All in all, it makes for a very lame cocktail party experience.
After several years of the "I'm a doctor" answer, I started saying "I'm an artist," which suddenly made me the life of the party. People still make assumptions, but this time they put you in the artist box instead of the doctor box, so they figure I'm a dark, brooding, broke, self-flagellating, manic-depressive, alcoholic, creatively frustrated libertarian with passion for a cause I'll promote even to my own self-detriment.
None of those things are true about me either, but it made for much more interesting cocktail party conversation. The people doing the asking feel much better about themselves when they compare themselves to you, and when you tell them you have a day job, they never ask what it is.
So for a while, I started telling people I'm a pirate, only nobody believed me. They didn't buy that I was a Vegas showgirl or a professional pogo stick bouncer either. But at least it led to lively conversation.
After telling one woman that I'm a doctor, artist, author of two books, public speaker, coach, workshop leader, and mother, she said, totally deadpan, "You know there's treatment for people like you."
So I quit answering the question altogether. Now I simply say, "I prefer not to answer that question because I am more than what I do, but I'd like to ask you a question, 'What's awesome about your life?'"
And people light up. The truth is that they really don't care what you do. They're just trying to make idle conversation so they can stick you in some box so they know what to do with you at a cocktail party.
But when you invite them to tell you what's awesome about their life — and you really care what is — the whole dynamic shifts.
So when I met Ali, I knew nothing about her except that she's also friends with my friends Gabby Bernstein and Mike Robbins. Instead of leading off our hiking conversation with "So, what do you do?" I invited her to tell me what's awesome about her life.
And we were off! She said, "How awesome is it that we both have two legs and can go for a hike on the ocean?" And then she chatted for 15 minutes about all the blessings in her life, not one of which mentioned her job.
By the end of our hike, I knew A LOT about Ali and her life, and I hadn't put her in any boxes or allowed her to pigeon-hole me into a series of assumptions that led her to believe she knows who I am.
What Really Matters
When I lead off conversations with "What's awesome about your life?" I can have a rousing chat with someone that lasts for hours, and we can laugh about it later, realizing that we still don't know how each other earns money, whether or not we're married, or whether we have children. But we know a lot about who we are. Isn't that what really matters?
Why do we lead off conversations asking each other how we earn money? Why is this considered the defining characteristic of a person? Why do you really care what I do for a living? How does that really help you know me at my core?
What's Awesome About Your Life?
I dare you to start asking strangers to tell you what's awesome about their life. Watch how it changes the dynamic, how it opens them up, how it gives them permission to brag about how they rock, to let their Inner Pilot Light shine. Watch how they turn the question around and ask you to do the same. Watch how suddenly, two Inner Pilot Lights are engaging, heart to heart, soul to soul. Watch how little it matters what someone does in order to pay the rent.
Try it. Report back.
And answer me this one question. What's awesome about YOUR life?
Truly dying to know,
****
Lissa Rankin, MD: Founder of OwningPink.com, Pink Medicine Revolutionary, motivational speaker, and author of What's Up Down There? Questions You'd Only Ask Your Gynecologist If She Was Your Best Friend and Encaustic Art: The Complete Guide To Creating Fine Art With Wax.
Learn more about Lissa Rankin here.
