The Stuntman

Choosing our lot in life

When I was a kid I wanted to be a stuntman. In every subdivision across America someone had a Super8 camera. My street was no different. News of the camera spread, the gang gathered and the dream of being the next George Lucas was off and running.

It is interesting to look back at everyone’s role on the neighborhood sandlot set. It is uncanny how the roles each kid took in our neighborhood film mirror the jobs they eventually chose in life. For instance, Phil was our set builder and lighting technician. He went on to be a IT installer. Steve was our star actor and he now performs daily in front of his school students as a teacher. I won’t get started on my big brother Chris’ childhood role as director and his professional ascent up the ladder. Rather, I’d like to share a few thoughts on my role and the subsequent effects on my future.

I was always the stuntman: Jump off a bike into a forsythia bush? No problem. Go over a plywood ramp engineered to fail? Bring it! Roll off the roof into the azaleas bushes? With pleasure. The scars on my knees belie my childhood profession.

Fast forward 35 years. These days I can’t help but describe myself as a corporate stuntman. One thing to keep in mind is that stuntmen rarely attain a place of glory in the film and they are in truth the most likely to die during the production. When they don’t die, they are often so injured that their ability to play in the next feature is curtailed.

The analogy is extremely accurate for me. I have always marched against the grain of the masses, which are considerably large at my place of employment, with the hope of maybe attaining a stunt so fantastic that it will change everything; not only for the company, but also for the world at large. I consistently propose ideas that can’t be done based on conventional wisdom and then work like crazy to prove that they can. My goal is to exact change. Like the real-life stuntmen, all this is done with often disastrous results. But once in a while there is a thrilling success. More often, survival feels like a gift.

Lately social media has been my obsession. I see the potential for huge change, growth and freedom from older paradigms. I find myself constantly stretching to do more within the social medium than has been done in the past. I am not sure how everyone in my company feels about it. Many are intrigued yet nervous about the changes I am proposing, and they are not quite ready for it. I feel myself slipping closer and closer to an edge.

As a salesperson, sitting in front of a marketing director and explaining why she should look at a targeted and entertaining social media campaign instead of email blasts which simply show products and discounts, is just one example of the uncomfortable life of a stuntman in corporate America. The nagging feeling that I may not have a job tomorrow if I answer the next question truthfully is a ‘edge’ I have found myself on more than once.

I don’t know any real stuntmen, but I would guess they know what I mean. The edge is a place that stuntmen know they really should not go, a stunt that should not be attempted. And yet, stuntmen are so terribly drawn to it and have no way of resisting it.

I am pretty sure many stuntmen have left this plane of existence with a smile on their face. That is the way I intend to go too.