Boooorrriinng!!!

A Too-Nice Woman

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was much too nice. Just how nice was this too-nice woman? This woman was so incredibly nice -- that nobody liked her.

The too-nice woman runs around the room, per Gaulier's instructions. When you're running, he says, your body reveals the role that's captured you, the role that limits you: stiff and subdued, light and childish, aggressive and energized. When you're moving, you can't hide. Generals know that -- and so does Gaulier. This woman's step is light; she positively prances. There is an angelic smile on her face.

" You are too nice," Gaulier says. The woman even enjoys the reproach. For her, " too nice" is just right. But then Gaulier lets the air out of her tires: " You are so nice that you are not convincing. You are boooorrriinng!" It's true. She is so nice, she is not even very convincing at being nice.

Gaulier quickly performs surgery on her soul. He makes her aware of how trapped she is in the role of helper. Indeed, he makes her aware of how everything that she does -- the way that she walks, breathes, talks, glances at another person -- limits her effectiveness. Leadership is communicated through more than just ideas, vision, or values. Gestures can also communicate leadership -- swiftly and surely. The too-nice woman doesn't have what it takes to command attention. And Gaulier won't let her off the hook until she does.

Boooorrriinng? Gaulier is eminently qualified to make this judgment: He is a Zen master in Dilbert suspenders. Everything about him contradicts everything else about him. Since he's French, you expect a high degree of formality. You expect to be reprimanded for anything less than perfection. But Gaulier loves risk and foolishness. He wears the beard and the patches of Jean-Paul Sartre and the round glasses of the Nutty Professor. You expect him to expound on theory. Instead, you get demonstrations on how to love what you do -- how to love it so much that pleasure becomes the center of your power and authority. Take total pleasure in everything you do, insists Gaulier, even the lonely job of leadership.

But our young Mother Teresa can't break out of her too-nice shell. Having been told that she is boring, she becomes even duller. Gaulier asks her to act like any animal she wants. She opts for a swan -- not an inspired choice! In fact, it is an insipid choice: She is already a lot like a swan, so in mimicking a swan's behavior, she is still stuck in her old routine.

" Choose your punishment," Gaulier demands. " A kiss or a whack." Since this woman is boring, Gaulier makes her choose between two punishments that afford her no safety: She must either convince another student to kiss her -- not an easy thing to do in a room full of strangers -- or accept a whack.

Our Sister of the Loving Heart again plays it safe: She decides to take the whack. Gaulier bends her at the waist, her arms pinioned behind her, and karate-chops her back. His whacks are no more uncomfortable than a typical Swedish massage. Still, you feel them. Your butt in the air and your head down at your ankles, you feel broken in two. Afterward, you sit with the others who have been condemned for being boring. And then later, you get up and try the exercise again.

The Sin of Being Boooorrriinng!

One thing that Gaulier insists on is that his students become bigger human beings. " People make themselves smaller in every encounter," he says. " If you're in the light, either onstage or in someone's attention, you can't afford to be small. You're not just the space around your shoes. If you don't take pleasure in even the smallest things that you do, then you don't have an aura.

" You have to be so charming," Gaulier tells his students, " that people think, 'If my daughter marries this man, or if my son marries this woman, I will be fucking happy.' If you don't exude pleasure, then you can't be an actor -- or a leader. With 2,000 spotlights shining on you, you have to emit a beautiful freedom. You have to pretend that you're not scared."

Leadership can be stressful. And during moments of pressure, people tend to close up. That's true for an actor onstage, as well as for a leader on whom all eyes rest. When we occupy a position that requires more of us than usual -- making a toast at a wedding, presenting to a committee of VCs, rousing a team or a board of directors -- we contract. Courage leaves us, and we deflate. The result is that we don't convey our ideas with conviction.

Leadership means selling yourself along with a promise -- of ideas, products, or missions. But all too often, when we have an idea or a product to sell, instead of rising to the challenge -- Major swelling to fill that chair! -- we shrink from it. " If your presentation becomes diminished, it is because of the contraction that goes on in your confidence level," explains Isabelle Anderson. " To put color around it, to make it bold, would go against the grain of your normal life."