An Even Exchange

Several years ago I took two flights to travel to a college show down south. Fortunately we were traveling the night before, because everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Our flights were delayed, our luggage was lost, our rental car wasn’t available on time, and our hotel room wasn’t ready when we finally arrived. Luckily, the next morning our luggage had been delivered to the hotel and we headed to the campus ready to make up for a string of disasters by putting on a great show.

When we arrived at the campus the students excitedly met us and walked us into a large auditorium. It was a massive space with state-of-the-art lights, sounds, and multimedia capabilities. I gazed enthusiastically around the room.

“How many students do you think you’ll have tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, this will be full,” they replied, gesturing to the thousands of empty seats.

I was pumped. It can be really exhausting to fly halfway across the country, deal with the hassles of travel, and summon the energy to do a show — but when a client holds up their end of the bargain and puts on a great event it makes all of the inconveniences worth putting up with.

So, I set up for the show, went backstage, and eagerly waited to begin.

At 10 minutes before showtime I got a text from my wife: “There are only 30 people here.”

I peeked out of the curtain to see a handful of people seated throughout the auditorium, with hundreds of empty seats in-between. The client had greatly overestimated how many people would be in attendance that evening and I ended up doing the show for a small, apathetic group in that massive space. It was such a disappointment.

Since that show we have a running gag about these sorts of shows. It goes something like this:

When you arrive at a campus to do a show the client greets you and says, “I have good news and I have bad news.”

“Okay, give me the good news…” you respond.

“Well we were able to book you in the largest, fanciest, nicest auditorium on campus!”

“Wow, that’s awesome! What’s the bad news?”

“Well, we’re only going to have about 10 students at the show tonight.”

It’s funny because it happens several times a year. Sure, there are some really enjoyable college shows but most of them end up being a poor turnout or a bunch of uninterested kids on their phones.

It happened again this month. A school had me come to their campus at the last minute, instead of doing a virtual show. So I made the long trip to their campus ready to amaze a roomful of students and give them a bright spot in an otherwise miserable year.

However, right as we were walking into the venue the client warned me in an all-too-familiar tone, “Just so you know, we’ve been having very low turnout for all of our events this semester.”

“What do you mean low turnout - like two students?” I said, making a joke.

“Exactly,” she replied, “But at least you still get paid!”

I sighed heavily.

I’d literally only slept 2 hours the night before. I’d been around several hundred people at the airport — in the midst of a global pandemic — so I could give a good show. Plus, I just recently learned that I have a herniated disc in my lower back that may require surgery. It makes standing for long periods of time (read: doing a show) unbearable and traveling quite uncomfortable, too. But, I had mentally pushed all of that aside to make the trip to their campus and give them an entertaining performance.

So you can see why I didn’t feel great about taking a trip somewhere to earn a paycheck for a lame show. I risked my health in multiple ways and left my family behind in Chicago, all for…nothing. When a client doesn’t hold up their end of the bargain it feels disrespectful to the amount of time and effort I’ve put into the event for them.

Let me be clear: I’m not going to stop performing at colleges any time soon. I still enjoy it and they make up a decent part of my income each year. However, I wish many colleges would understand the effort I put in to travel to their campus to do a show and reward that effort with a good event. I’m not just appearing on their campus, doing a show, then vanishing into the night. I’m often journeying long distances by plane or car on little to no sleep, not to mention dealing with the constant annoyances of travel along the way.

When I was in school I thought that performing at campuses was going to be the coolest thing I could do. I would attend shows at my campus and they would be packed, so I just sort of figured that all schools would have a similar turnout at their events, too.

Unfortunately something happened between when I was in school and when I’m performing shows at schools now. I think it must be social media and smart phones. (Read The Coddling of the American Mind for a look at the shift on campuses and what it’s doing to students.) Students don’t attend shows like they used to, unless they’re bribed to be there to win some money or prizes. The people who go to a show for the sake of entertainment seem to be a dying breed. And, if you can get students to come out to shows they’re too scared to fully laugh or have fun like they used to. Forget being able to take risks or do edgy material; the majority of students aren’t into that so if you’re smart you just do a middle-of-the-road show, take your paycheck, and move on. (Jerry Seinfeld is one of many performers who won’t perform at colleges any more.)

I’m not in this for the money. I’m thrilled to make a living doing this but I’m more interested with being onstage and connecting with a roomful of strangers. The biggest joy is to be able to spend an entire day traveling to a new location and use my last remaining ounce of energy to give people an experience they’ll never forget. But I don’t want to waste my skills on an empty room. I want to make it worth your money, but you’re going to have to make it worth my time.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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Taking My Lumps

When I first moved to Chicago I went in search of stage time. I knew that if I wanted to improve I would need to get onstage as often as possible.

Eventually I found a small bar near my apartment that did weekly cabaret shows. After a trial show there the host gave me an open invitation to perform whenever I wanted. So I started going there every single week.

Doing weekly shows allowed me to practice new things and learn how to be onstage in front of an often unruly audience. I learned how to handle being heckled and work with unwilling participants. I learned how to perform for a cynical audience and what to do when things went wrong. And, I learned how to make people care.

I remember one night I was trying a new stunt and no one would pay attention. The bar was a long, narrow space with a small stage way at the back near a few tables and chairs. There were probably 10-15 people scattered through the bar that night and everyone had been talking amongst themselves during all of the acts that had gone before me. By the time I went onstage it was clear that I would need to make a big change to my act in order to get control of the room, or I was going to bomb big time.

So, I changed gears. Without a second thought, I moved off the stage and into the house. I stood on a chair without a microphone, and shouted, “Can everyone see me okay?”

Suddenly everyone grew quiet and turned to look at me. I had momentarily gained their attention and knew that I could not relinquish it.

So, I resorted to another trick. I lowered my voice and began performing. You’d think that the best way to get an audience’s attention is to speak louder. It’s not. The best way is to lower your voice while maintaining your intensity. You want people to lean forward so they can hear you better and really pay attention. It’s counterintuitive, I know, but it really works.

“I’m going to show you something absolutely insane tonight, but I will not speak over you. I demand your attention and your respect for the next five and a half minutes.”

I slowly scanned the crowd as I excitedly whispered those words. You could have heard a pin drop in the room it was so quiet. Everyone was sitting in silent excitement, waiting to see what I would do next.

I proceeded to destroy that crowd for five minutes straight.

Without those weekly shows I wouldn’t have had the confidence to take control of the room. I wouldn’t have recognized the challenging crowd or the solution it required. I wouldn’t have known the power of silence or the “lowering my voice” trick. I needed weeks and weeks of stage time in that bar to understand how to work a room.

Before then I was lucky to have a show once a month. I’d do a show, fail miserably, then have to spend four weeks thinking about my mistakes. By the time I got the chance to perform again I had forgotten everything I’d learned and went back to making those mistakes all over again.

That’s how I feel now, doing in-person shows during the pandemic. I’ve only had five live events since March, with several weeks in between. Each show has had a different set of restrictions, a different demographic, and a different environment. The common denominator with each event is that every attendee (myself included) has worn a mask. When you do a show that relies heavily on audience reactions and feedback, the face coverings can make it quite difficult to know if it’s going well.

It’s part of the reason my virtual show has gotten so good. I’m doing several shows a week, even sometimes up to 4 in a day. Doing that many performances has allowed my script and material to get rock solid. I understand how to work the virtual elements of the show, connect with online participants, and keep momentum going during a show. And now I’m starting to do things that I do for my live shows after I perform them a hundred times, like adding in more jokes, building in extra surprises, and refining the finale. I can say, without question, that my virtual show is much, much better than my in-person socially distanced shows — all because I’ve had more time working on one than the other.

In many ways, doing in-person events right now is like being back in the early days when I was just starting out. I’m learning a bunch of things all at once and trying to retain it for long stretches of time between those events. Right now I’m just onstage taking my lumps. It’s a struggle and the progress is slow, but I’m not worried because I’ve been here before.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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A Ruined Experience

Here’s my latest story of someone ruining The Experience™:

We decided to go to the suburbs this week to browse some book stores. Shopping in the city during the pandemic has been a nightmare, mainly because the stores aren’t designed for people to space themselves out comfortably.

So, we were pleasantly surprised that the shopping experience in the ‘burbs was much more enjoyable. The stores were more spacious, everyone was keeping to themselves, and we were actually able to find what we were looking for.

Everything was going so smoothly that we started store-hopping. We went from a used book store to a craft store to a hardware store and finally to a well-known book store. (I don’t want name them here so we’ll call them Barnes & Noble.)

99% of The Experience™ at Barnes & Noble was good. There was plenty of space to browse, we weren’t constantly getting bumped into by other customers, and their inventory was on point. I was even able to find several books I’d been looking for. But then, I headed to the register to check out and everything went off the rails.

“Hello! How are you today?” I said, as I stepped to the counter smiling beneath my mask.

The clerk responded politely, scanned my books, then turned to look at me.

“Do you have a Barnes & Noble account?” he asked.

I explained that I did not but thanked him for asking. But he pressed further…

“Well, if you signed up today you would actually make money. It’s only $25 but you’d save $27, so even if you never used it again it will have been worth it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said calmly, hoping that was the end of it.

“All I need is your phone number and name and that’s it!” he said. He stood there frozen, as if he couldn’t proceed until I gave him my personal information.

“I think I’m okay,” I repeated.

“I wish I could turn down free money! That must be nice,” he said rudely.

I’d had enough. “Nothing’s free!” I said. “Last time I had an account it was impossible to cancel and you guys wouldn’t stop e-mailing me.”

He muttered to himself, dropped the receipt in the bag, and slid it to me without saying a word.

“Thanks so much,” I said, resorting to my well-practiced midwestern faux-kindness. “Have a great rest of your day.”

I left Barnes & Noble in a foul mood. Everything up to that point had been wonderful. In fact, our entire trip to the suburbs was fantastic. But then, in a few short minutes, The Experience™ had been clouded by my conversation at check out. What a bummer.

But, what can learn from this? At least two things…

First off, the cashier had tried to say that giving my phone number was no big deal. But that’s not true. Giving away your phone number is yet another invasion of privacy and a way for corporations to know more about you. I have a lot of friends who always say, “Who cares? They already have all the information about you!” To which I say, “That doesn’t make it right. And that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my information willingly.” I’m willing to pay two dollars more to make it as hard on them as possible.

And second, my experience — The Experience™ — should matter more to a company than my personal information or meeting a quota for member sign-ups. If you give me the best experience possible — from the moment I arrive at your establishment to the moment I leave — I’ll be your customer for life. No fucking phone number required.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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It's Always Your Fault

My wife and I always joke around that we want to be great at what we do but we don’t have 10,000 hours to spare.

“We’re gonna have to do it in a thousand!”

As a result, we dedicated ourselves over the years to quickly learning from our mistakes and improving on each and every endeavor. For me, that meant being very self-critical and taking ownership of anything that went wrong. And man, have things gone wrong.

Here’s a brief, incomplete list of some of my biggest failures:

• • Forgot to charge the batteries for my microphone and it quit working halfway through the show.
• • Left an important prop in the car and panicked mid-show when I realized I wouldn’t be able to continue as planned.
• • Did an entire show with my pants unzipped.
• • Also, I ripped the seat of my pants onstage once.
• • Bombed on live TV.
• • Bombed in front of live audiences.
• • Got lost on the way to a gig and was over and hour late.
• • Went way over my allotted time for a show.
• • Went way under my allotted time for a show.

I could go on and on. I’ve failed more times than you can imagine. However, I’ve always held true to one personal philosophy: It’s always my fault. ALWAYS.

I should have charged the batteries and should have double or triple-checked my props. Ever since that fateful day I always check my fly now. I’ve learned to cope with bombing, always leave earlier than I need to when headed to a gig, and have learned to nail the length of my show…down to the exact minute.

I have no one to blame for those experiences except myself. But as soon as they happened, I took responsibility for my failure, fixed it, and moved on. Sometimes I only have to fix one thing and other times I have to fix several things. But that’s what it takes to get better in a hurry, especially when you don’t have 10,000 hours to spare.

The same philosophy holds true for other things that might seem out of your control, too.

Have a difficult client? You must have attracted their interest somehow or not done enough to educate them on your services. It’s your fault.

Have a frustrating venue or tech problems? It’s your responsibility to communicate to the client and prepare beforehand. Take the blame because it’s your fault.

Keep finding yourself in work environments that you don’t want to be in? Change how you do things. Be strict with what projects you take on and what clients you do business with. Or, don’t complain about the work you’re doing. Either way, it’s your fault.

The sooner you learn that it’s always your fault, the better. You can keep going around blaming other people when things go wrong, but you’ll never get better that way. If you want to get to the next level you’re going to have to start being honest with yourself and that starts by knowing that the blames rest squarely on your shoulders.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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My New Camera

As part of my ongoing quest for more mystery, I bought myself a Super 8 camera this summer. It’s a Canon 310xl and my new favorite thing.

It asks nothing of me.

There are no notifications, no alerts, and no messages to respond to. There’s no LCD screen, so I’m less focused on what I’m shooting and more focused on enjoying the moment.

That being said, shooting with Super 8 is quite the undertaking.

First you have to find a camera. I found mine on Etsy. I’d had it bookmarked for awhile and finally pulled the trigger. It’s been refurbished and I knew when I ordered it that it was still in working order. It took over a week for my camera to arrive.

Then, you have to learn to use it. The old manual wasn’t too helpful, but I got the gist of it. When you don’t have an LCD screen to check your work, though, it’s hard to know if you’re getting it right. That means that every single roll of film will be a learning experience.

Oh yeah, about that film… Every roll of film costs $38. I’m shooting on Kodak VISION3 50D Color Negative Film. (Yes, they still make it!) Each roll of film is 50 feet long, which comes out to about three and a half minutes of video.

Since you can only shoot a few minutes worth of footage you have to prioritize what you want to capture. It’s not like your phone where you can shoot bursts of however many photos you want and send them to the cloud. There’s an importance to what you choose to shoot because you can feel the dollars moving through the camera as you hold the trigger down. All 38 of them!

Ah, the trigger! When you squeeze the trigger the camera begins to hum and vibrate in your hands. It’s a tactile experience that so many of our modern technological devices lack.

Eventually, the film cartridge says “EXPOSED” and you know you’re out of film. An exposed roll of film is a very mysterious thing. Your mind races with questions: Did it turn out? Was it any good? What will it look like?! But there’s no immediate answers when you’re shooting on film. You have to wait.

The final step is to have the film developed and/or digitized. I sent mine to Pro8mm, a company in Burbank. It took over two weeks before an envelope arrived in the mail with my footage. Watching it back gave me an incredible feeling of nostalgia for every moment of this summer.

Here’s my Summer 2020 Super 8 Short. I think it turned out pretty great:

Watching it back, I could picture every moment that I captured in vivid detail. I remembered where we were and what we were doing. It was magical. Things that I might have shot on my phone — food, selfies, random signs, silly things — none of those made the cut for my first Super 8 reel. Instead it was a representation of where we are now during this strange time in 2020. I’ll never forget it.

I’m not saying you should buy one of these cameras, too, although it has been quite fun and I plan on continuing to shoot with it as often as possible. But I do think there is a lot to be learned from how a Super 8 camera forces you to interact with the world around you.

It makes you slow down and value individual moments. It makes you wait and gives you the joy that comes from delayed gratification. And, if you want to share your work with someone it makes you work for it. Those are all things we could use a little more of these days.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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Opt Out

Towards the end of March I noticed almost an instant change in the way businesses were advertising:

“We’re all in this together.”

“We can help you be safe.”

“Let us provide for you in this time of need.”

Did you notice it, too?

I think the constant barrage of hashtags and clickbait and soundbites has exponentially increased my level of cynicism in recent years, but in this case I think it’s wholly justified.

Don’t for a second think that these business have your best interests in mind. They don’t. It’s all about their bottom line, plain and simple. It’s all about the bag.

This is part of the reason I dropped social media last year. There’s a need for “influencers” and “brands” to weigh in on every single issue and event. It’s exhausting. They have to change their profile pictures and bios, release a statement, and go live on instagram so they can “be visible” - oh, wait, I mean “take a stand”. You saw brands do it with coronavirus and now they’re doing it all over again with Black Lives Matter.

Take HBO Max. Did you even know what HBO Max was when it came out? Of course not. It was confusing and no one was really talking about it. Then they remove “Gone With The Wind” to address some concerns for a while and suddenly everyone was saying “HBO Max Removes Gone With The Wind” From Their Platform.”

I could almost hear a corporate executive screaming, “Yes, we did! And that’s HBO MAX…M-A-X…sign up now!”

Companies finding ways to market themselves during a time of crisis make me sick. It’s a disgusting, awful way to do business and yet, many people seem to be celebrating corporations instead of seeing through the thin veneer of their opportunistic virtue signaling.

Recently we see this with the companies boycotting Facebook’s advertising platform. Russell Brand had some good thoughts on the matter and, as usual, said them in a much more intelligent way than I could:

The problem with all of this is that people are fed up with Facebook and are probably posting about their frustrations with them right now on THEIR FACEBOOK FEEDS. I’m not even on there but I guarantee you its true.

Everyone I know hates their social media. It makes them anxious and takes up too much of their time. They get in disagreements on it or find themselves getting more and more depressed. But, they’re convinced they can’t leave or even better, might be able to stay on and make some change.

But, if you really think any of these companies care about you then think again. They don’t. The social media companies don’t care and neither do the ones boycotting them. It’s all about the bag.

Whether they stay on the platform or not, the companies are all getting press out of it and we’re all forced to sit here and celebrating them for being “brave” and “supporting the cause”. And it seems hopeless, like there’s no escape.

But there is…

Don’t celebrate the brands. Don’t support the platforms that give them a message. Delete your social media. And don’t fall for shameless marketing that takes advantage of the current political climate.

Opt out.