Some of you know this about me: I used to dance at bar mitzvahs. As a job. The technical term for this kind of work is “motivational party dancer,” and involves getting a dancefloor full of teenagers to fist-pump along to pop-songs with you, alternated with bouts of shushing them up during speeches and ceremonies. (There’s a bit more to it than that, but you get the idea.)
Last fall, I worked almost every Saturday night doing this. It was a way to make money, and was actually the first time I had made a significant amount of money from dancing. Not only that, but it was the first time in years I had put myself into a new field of work and I was terrified going to my first party. Wanting to get things right and make a good impression, I gathered my gusto and approached those 13-year-olds on the dancefloor, who were very likely to roll their eyes and turn their backs, leaving me fist-pumping solo to Katy Perry.
Needless to say, the job got old fast, and the traveling, stress, and late weekend nights became a little too much for what it was worth. I learned something very important from this experience, though, which is why I’m sharing it with you.
The job felt hellish when I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. In that culture, it was easy to feel pressured to put on a particular kind of show, with fake smiles and ass-kissing galore. Often I felt so worried about what the boss would think, that I couldn’t really be present with the kids dancing. In my uptight frenzy one evening, I forgot to pass out the glow sticks which was deemed a “party failure” by the owner of the entertainment company. Ouch.
But here’s what I also discovered: I had the most fun and made the most impact when I let my genuine self come through, in moments like these:
having a heart-to-heart discussion with the older cousin of a bar mitzvah boy, helping her think about alternative career options and following her passions
dancing freely with the 5-year-old cousins, and the 85-year-old grandparents
slow-dancing to Frank Sinatra with one of the shy kids in the group
chatting with the girls who stood hesitantly on the fringe of the dancefloor
connecting with the other working dancers who are doing amazing things in life outside the mitzvahs
To sum it up, I think there’s a way to sneak our real selves into even the strictest of situations, and doing so will not only feel great to you, but it will benefit others in ways you might not realize.
I’m curious to know --
What’s your equivalent to the mitzvah dance floor? Where in your life do you want to be more authentically you?
Remember to stay true to yourself in the meantime - on and off the dancefloor.
to fist-pumping your own way, jess
