My friend invited me to attend an improv show with her last night. And when we arrived that friend dared me to volunteer if one of the teams asked. This blog being a regular part of my life (and all my friends taking advantage of that), I agreed.
The show was three teams and after the second there had been no mention of volunteers so I thought I was in the clear. It’s not that I’m embarrassed in front of audiences; more so I’m nervous about being embarrassed, which comes from the unknown, the unknown being that I would volunteer without knowing what I’m volunteering for. The MC got up in between acts and prepped the audience for the upcoming chance to volunteer. I looked back at my friend, who gave me a smile. The butterflies began fluttering.
When the break was over, the MC asked if anyone wanted to help out all three groups (we’re talking roughly 25 improvers) with a game. My hand shot up in the air and, probably because I was in the first row, I found myself onstage. The game was explained, it being a “Day In The Life Of” game, and my nerves got even worse. I’d seen this game before and sometimes things turn into a bit of making fun of the person. I wasn’t sure how much of my day I wanted to share.
As the questions started, I only moderately felt less awkward. The inquiry was at first pretty normal, but then started getting more detailed. When asked where I live, I responded with the neighborhood. The MC then asked whereabouts in that neighborhood. When I said that I was at a training for work yesterday morning, I was asked what exactly I did, what the training was about, different things I did there. There was even a question of how I would describe myself with my friends and how I would describe my husband. It was way more in depth then what I’ve seen in the past and I was awkward.
Finally I sat down and they proceeded to act out my day. It was all of about two minutes. More than double that time in questions for two minutes. Don’t really understand why they needed to know so much. It was awkward and I will admit that later I ran through everything I said with my husband, checking that I didn’t look too much like a fool. Of course he said I didn’t, that I was fine. But isn’t that really what most non-life threatening fears are about? Looking foolish?