The dying art of the pep talk
How to deliver one in dystopian times without sounding patronising or fake?
Picture this. You’re having one of those Mumbai monsoon days that Delhi people love using as ammunition in the intercity wars. You try leaving home at 7am, but your car-hailing app was about as effectual as pineapple on pizza. Several rejections later, when you finally arrive, your belatedly benevolent boss says it’s a work-from-home day. You get back home to a leaking roof, and try to log on to a Zoom call while trying to assess the destruction your cat has wreaked in the cupboard you left open. Bills are overdue, unwelcome guests are soon arriving and your lover is emotionally absent. You call a trusted friend for a pick-me-up. She begins by saying: “Don’t sweat the small stuff. We’re all going to die anyway.”
“I’m drowning here and you’re describing the water”
Ok, I’m that lousy friend. But can you blame me? We’re in the modern era’s dark ages, with people willingly voting evil clowns to power, pandemics and reality shows running wild—and let’s not start about the climate. So, if a day begins and ends without any catastrophe, just minor disasters, it’s a small triumph. This is not, however, the right attitude in a motivational speaker, I’ve learned the hard way. Dispirited people do not usually want a list of global tragedies narrowly averted when they’re telling you about an obstinate child or ruined presentation. They’re looking for some old-fashioned comfort. But how does one provide it in an increasingly dystopian world without sounding either patronising or fake?
P
Halfway through As Good As It Gets (1997), the obsessive, curmudgeonly author played by Jack Nicholson, recently dumped, seeks out his convalescing neighbour, played by Greg Kinnear. Unimpressed by Kinnear’s words of encouragement, Nicholson erupts: “Look, you—I’m very intelligent. If you’re gonna give me hope, you gotta do better than you’re doing. If you can’t be at least mildy interesting, then shut the hell up! I’m drowning here and you’re describing the water.”
Bumper sticker MBAs
So, does anyone ever feel uplifted by hopeful talk when they’re down in the dumps or looking for direction? I wish I could channel the clarity and the power of SRK’s ‘sirf sattar minute’ speech in Chak De! India (2007), where his hockey coach ignites the fire of ambition in his team at a critical juncture. But sports, as we all know, is a space where the most exaggerated emotions are dignified and even saluted. Every athlete needs to be inspired by a relentless coach, pushing her forward to achieve unlikely feats. But if those inspirational quotes were to be used in real-life situations, their success would be in contention.
Just do it. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. A winner doesn’t quit; a quitter doesn’t win. There is no “I” in “Team.” Bumper sticker wisdom abounds in sport. But step away from the playing area and these shining exhortations lose their sheen. They turn, instead, into MBA babble—a trite inventory for PPTs for AMGs which must be submitted by EOD to the HOD. OMG!
ANYONE WHO’S PAYING ANY ATTENTION TO THE WORLD KNOWS THAT DARK HUMOUR AND STRATEGICALLY EMPLOYED STOICISM HELP US ENDURE CRISES
Comic-strip therapy
There must be some way to strike the right balance. To say the thing that the pep-talk seeker most needs to hear, but which doesn’t embarrass the speech-giver with its laughable implausibility. What’s clear is that advice is rarely sought by humans in general; what’s most often required is an attentive listening voice, sympathetic nods of the right frequency and amplitude and an appropriate beverage at the right temperature. The ‘talk’ part of ‘pep talk’ is overrated. Anyone who’s paying any attention to the world knows that dark humour and strategically employed stoicism help us endure crises, even as a slew of therapies involving everything from crystals to goblins gets all the good press.
The best replacement for an uplifting speech these days is a comic strip. With religious leaders, politicians and other figureheads the world previously turned to in difficult times going rogue, we still have the wry understanding of cartoonists. From Poorly Drawn Lines and The Awkward Yeti to The New Yorker Cartoons and Dino Comics, we have Insta access to a range of artists who know what it’s like to live, love and lose in these uncertain times. And I’ll take uneasy laughter over pious platitudes any day.