First, a quick housekeeping note: Most posts on Your Intermittent Lex are free. There are sometimes posts just for paying subscribers. Most paid posts don’t even email free subscribers, because I don’t want to clog up your inboxes with posts you can’t read all of.

But business sense requires that sometimes free subscribers need to see premium posts, or they’ll never upgrade. A couple of you will be annoyed by posts like these and unsubscribe, and I’ll get an email notification that you’ve done so, and I’ll feel bad. Ideally, though, one of you will get motivated to upgrade, and I’ll feel like overall, the system works. You take the good, you take the bad.

Earlier this weekend, I auditioned for a musical. A nearby theater is putting on a production of Avenue Q, one of my absolute favorite musicals — it involves puppets and profanity! — and I’ve been planning my audition for months. A couple trusted friends I spoke to prior to the actual audition mentioned to me that they weren’t used to seeing me nervous. And indeed, I was nervous: I really want to get cast in specific roles in this show, I relish the idea of being on stage puppeteering with Muppet-inspired voices, and auditions are high-stakes, one-and-done deals.

Of course, I aimed to exude confidence when I walked into the audition itself. But I was thinking about my nervousness, and why I’m often less nervous in even a big business meeting, and I have a few thoughts to share. Let’s dive in.

First, I should acknowledge that there’s nothing wrong with nervousness itself. The problem to be wary of is when nervousness — the fear itself, or the fear of BEING nervous — holds you back from doing things you want to do.

That said, feeling nervous is no fun. Nervous energy is jittery. I don’t want the physical signs of nervousness (for me, a quivering voice, heavier breathing, visible vibrations in my legs and hands) to make people question whether I’m the right person for whatever I’m pitching them on — casting me in a role, hiring me for work, or trusting my great ideas.

Overall, I do tend to feel confident in a work meeting because I know what I know, and I know have years of experience to back up my arguments, and I have a track record of success. That’s good!

An audition and a business meeting are not the same. Put simply, auditions suck, and meetings — even high-stakes meetings — don’t.

Good meetings and even presentations that you’re leading involve some sense of give and take. You can read the room, get feedback, see how things are landing. You can rely on your expertise, you can acknowledge what you don’t know, and you can explore nuances as needed.

Auditions don’t operate the same way. The director/producer/audition panel — by design — don’t want to give a ton of feedback in real-time; they’re not going to tell you if what you’re doing really is or really isn’t working. They don’t want you to fix mistakes; they want you to blow right past them. An auditioner asking for a do-over (“I missed that note, can I start again?”) is an auditioner who likely won’t get cast.

So I was nervous going in because a lot of my techniques for exuding and feeling confident in a business meeting don’t apply to auditions. And I was also feeling nervous because auditions are extremely subjective. If the director’s sister is getting a lead role, and I’m a foot taller, I may be ineligible before I open my mouth. I might audition with a song that the musical director hates. Auditions are one-and-done; they’re going to cast the show and move on, and if you or the audition panel had an off moment for the five to ten minutes you spend together, you’re out of luck.

Knowing all that, I decided ahead of time to use several of the techniques that I find work for me in life and business at the audition.

As I mentioned, Avenue Q involves puppets. The theater mentioned that they would provide a puppet workshop and do some light puppeteering work at callbacks, for actors who passed the first wave of auditions. I love puppets, I own many puppets, and I decided I’d take a puppet with me to audition. That was a risk.

Taking my own puppet with me was extra. I knew this going in. I knew I had to ask right at the start if I could use the puppet, and that if they said no, I had to make things as not-awkward as possible.

My dream version was asking “I know it’s unorthodox, but I’d actually love if my friend Arlo could help me out with this audition.” And then they’d be confused, and I’d pull out the puppet and say this is Arlo.

I didn’t go with this version for two reasons: While some salespeople love to put buyers on their heels, a) this isn’t sales, and b) it’s not my preferred approach. Asking about involving a friend would immediately confuse the panel, even if they quickly got what I considered a cute, funny setup.

When I’m making a cold call, or even calling customer service, the part I stress about is the 30 seconds of setup at the start of the conversation. How do I set the tone and explain what I want clearly and non-annoyingly at the outset?

Auditions — and meetings! — are a lot about do I like this person enough to want to work with them / trust them / etc.

So I said this: I know you’re doing puppetry work at callbacks, but I wanted to ask whether I could actually use a puppet for my audition today. No problem if not!

I said the first part about callbacks because I didn’t want them to say “Oh, we’re doing puppets at callbacks” if I started directly with my question. One, because I wanted to use the puppet now, and two, because it could cause them to infer that I hadn’t read the audition details closely, which I had.

I’m not incredibly proud of the “No problem if not,” which is an admission of nervousness. But I felt it was important here, to establish that I wouldn’t be fussed and it wasn’t awkward if they said no. Saying that was a crutch, but sometimes you need a crutch.

As it turned out, the director responded enthusiastically. So I had to turn back to my backpack and get Arlo the puppet out. As I did so, I saw his rod (which controls the arm) had come off, so I had to take a moment to reattach it. I didn’t want this to feel like downtime, and I wanted to make a good, “this guy could be fun to work with” impression, so I kept talking while I got the puppet and fixed the rod. “I will admit that I was warned asking about bringing my own puppet could seem a little extra, but I figured it was worth a shot! Plus he begged to come with me.”

The director said he loved it, so go for it. Great.

Now the next question was what song I’d prepared to audition. (If you’re not familiar with musical auditions, most of the time you’re asked to prepare a song in the style of the show, but not from the show, which is such an odd tradition if you ask me, but I digress.)

I just wrote “I cheated” as a two word sentence to start this paragraph, but that’s not true. I didn’t cheat. I hacked my audition song.

“I actually arranged a two-song medley of ‘Rubber Duckie’ and ‘C Is For Cookie’ from Sesame Street.”

If you’re not a regular musical theater auditioner, trust me, this is a little extra, too. That said, the parts I want in this show (where actors often play more than role) involve a guy with an Ernie-esque voice and affect (Nicky), and a monster with a Cookie Monster-esque voice and attitude (Trekkie Monster). I wanted to show off my ability to do those voices, and this was the way I could do so.

The director indicated enthusiasm for that, too. But what I liked about saying what I said was both that I got to demonstrate the skills I wanted, but also to make clear that I’d spent real time prepping this audition, and that I took the parts seriously, goofy though they are.

Maybe I’m overthinking all this, which I acknowledge. But summing all the subtleties and maybes together, optimizing my approach for maximum success, helped me show the confidence I wanted to feel, despite the nervousness that was present, too.

I don’t know how this story ends yet, by the way. I scored a callback, but I won’t know about the show’s casting for a week or two. I could get no role, could get just one of the two roles I want, get cast in a totally different role, or get precisely the two roles I’m after.

The best outcome would be getting what I want, sure. That said, I can’t overstate how pleased I am that I left it all on the field at my audition. Had I gone in doing less, I’d be saddled with what-ifs: What if I’d brought my own puppet? What if I’d done the voices? It could be those decisions doomed me (though I really don’t think so), but I’d rather go down swinging.

I’m sharing all this with you lovely paying subscribers because these same philosophies influence how I present myself in meetings, pitches, presentations, etc. I’m going to be me. If you’re going to like me, you’ll like me for me. I’d rather lose because we’re not a fit than lose because I wasn’t me.