To find your people, yes-and. To yes-and, be the offer.

Humans sense intention.

In college, the art student I was dating saw scribbles on a whiteboard in my dorm room. They connected the lines into a picture. They saw the noise as marks of humanity. They recognized this humanity and added their own.

Improvisational theater dubs this move “yes, and.” When someone makes an offer (a line, an emotion, a mimed hat), you accept it (“yes”) and add (“and”). 

The game feels deeply respectful: honoring others’ contributions while adding your own. You can’t yes-and into a vacuum. Someone has to move first, even if only The First Mover. 

When you yes-and readily, the world yes-ands you back. 

Yesterday, the world yes-and-ed me four times.

Business Advice

Two people texted me yesterday asking for business advice. 

Partner’s friend asked about negotiating a role with a CEO I used to advise. He didn’t know I knew the CEO. He generically knew me as a CEO whisperer and good at creatively evaluating contracts.

Another friend asked for advice negotiating his boyfriend’s equity compensation package. I shot back 13 points of commentary. He replied: “Julian, babe, wow!!!! Thank you SO much for this!!!”

My initial offer in these exchanges was a reputation built over years. My friends’ yes-es were recognizing the mark. Their and-s were the specific questions.

Small World

My former college roommate brought a friend to play cards til midnight. When the new guy mentioned he was a debater, I ballparked his age and asked if he had known my brother-in-law.

He said: “Oh yeah, he was a legend. Is he still very stoic?”

My offer: hosting an invented cooperative poker game.

His “yes”: joining. His “and”: sharing about himself.

My “yes”: piecing together the traits. My “and”: asking the precise follow-up.

His “yes”: acknowledgement. His “and”: mentioning my brother-in-law’s reputation.

We snapped a selfie to send to brother-in-law. After this connection, our poker-game riffing increased. 

On the Train

A woman in her mid-fifties boarded the 6 train at 42nd Street Grand Central. She commented on my fun hat and asked what I was reading. 

My initial offer: being legible, plus an emotional openness to interaction that I learned at clown school.

Shortly after studying in France, I noticed myriad people wanting to interact with me. Turns out: you can teach charisma.

The exchange:

“It’s called The Grasshopper.”

“Is it about grasshoppers?”

“It’s about philosophy of games.”

“Are you a philosophy major?”

“I was a philosophy major.”

“Do you still work in philosophy?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She smiled. “What do you write about?”

“I run a publication where I write about games, and I ghostwrite for tech people.”

“I’ve been looking for a ghostwriter.”

We exchanged information. We’re scheduled to talk Monday.

My offer: the book and the hat. Her “yes”: the engagement. Her “and”: the question chain.

Our conversation yes-and-ed back and forth.

Independently, Marketing discovered this move: make deliberate choices that legibly convey the desired information.

Yes-and has the same rule.

“No, But…” 

Partner and I visited a bathroom showroom.

For our two bathtubs, the “bathroom expert” recommended a 15.5″ deep bathtub for the larger space. We had told him we wanted that one to be maximally deep. (I found a 17.5″ deep bathtub after five minutes of searching. In a brand he represents.)

His response rejected our initial offer.

I told him we were unlikely to support his other recommendation either. We had asked for a bathtub. His recommendation was only 8” deep. (Partner’s comment to me, after the fact: “That’s not a bathtub. That’s a sink.”)

The salesman: “But it’s good for washing children.”

He didn’t ask why we disliked the depth. He didn’t interrogate enough to understand our preferences.

This was a “but.”

When someone “no”s or “but”s you, you question if they’re values-aligned.

This “no” will prompt me to check all his other work.

New York

New York is a city of infinite possibilities.

My rate of random encounters has skyrocketed over the last 4 months.

• Met new friends at an alumni gathering. We’ve since played board games four times.
• Met a ghostwriting client at a tech-incubator brunch.

The hard part has always been noticing the games. Yesterday I noticed four.

Moving to New York was a “yes.” When I’m living in alignment with my preferences, the city hollers back “yes” every day.

And its millions of people add a booming “AND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

People can sense agency. The more you enact change on the world, the more you attract people to you. 

You yes-and the world; the world becomes more yes-and-able for you. 

Take it from a better clown than me: Life has been created for you to enjoy, but you won’t enjoy it unless you pay for it with some good, hard work.