Let’s Get Serious! . . . Really?

The work we do as management scholars and professors is pretty important. After all, we are creators of the knowledge that makes up our academic field and educators of the managers of the future. Most of us have the distinction of being extensively trained PhDs and our peer-reviewed work provides the rich content for scholarly journals at the highest levels, as well as the basis for teaching the knowledge we generate. We attend exclusive academic conferences where we interact and share our best thinking with other serious scholars from around the world. We meticulously design research and create data collection methods and measures that adhere to rigorous scientific standards, and we continuously pursue best practices for teaching the students who come to us for education. All in all, we have reason to think of ourselves as pretty serious people. From time to time, though, it is useful to stop, look beyond our academic seriousness, and reflect on our significant societal roles and the potential benefits of developing our lighter sides. In this spirit, I offer the following short questionnaire (the Serious Thinker Questionnaire [STQ]) as a starting place for “serious” reflection. It raises an aspect of scholarly work that I think too often is overlooked and underappreciated. Please take a moment to respond to this brief instrument.

I realize this may seem to be a rather silly questionnaire and come across as a little too hokey. But maybe it just looks that way on the surface. It is kind of fun to reflect on its clever plays on words, and it prompts readers to think in an offbeat fashion. It’s certainly not susceptible to any sort of reliability, validity, or generalizability testing that we’ve all come to associate with scientific research. Yet it has its own kind of wacky charm and might even provide a small window into creative ways of thinking differently, not just amusingly. Obviously, it is not to be taken seriously by serious scholars . . . and that is really my point.

Playful nonacademic thinking can be useful to keep things in perspective and more broadly I have found it helpful to not take myself and my work too seriously. I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories that make fun of our seriousness (nee pretentiousness). An editor of one of our most prestigious journals once took the current issue to a distinguished group of high level executives to share some of our field’s latest scholarly work and to invite feedback . . . only to be greeted by an initial silent, confused pause followed by some giggles and laughter as these intelligent leaders of industry perused the table of contents and the academese contained in the article titles. And we’ve also seen some of the tongue-in-cheek newspaper and magazine articles that have poked fun at the results of our research and conducted a humorous (at least to nonacademic readers) mostly good-natured lampoon of what is portrayed as often obvious findings puffed up and disguised by scholarly jargon. In fact, I have assigned some of these articles to my students in my PhD seminars . . . again, in the hope that they will strive to keep things in perspective and not lose their balance with too much seriousness as they venture into our noble profession.

My own awakening to the need to not take myself too seriously, even as I have engaged in what I perceived to be groundbreaking research, can be attributed to notable events from my personal experience. Here, I will share two of them. The first occurred during the winter holiday season as I was nearing the end of my PhD program. I was sitting in the family room of my parents’ home with my Dad and two brothers. In combination, their work roles included a practicing dentist, an advanced products engineer, and a regional sales manager. They expressed interest in what I had been working on; so during our conversation, I proudly passed out copies of two of my recently accepted top-tier journal articles. These articles, on which I had worked so hard as I crafted my carefully worded prose, and anguished over as I created detailed responses to reviewers, in many ways symbolized my entry into what I viewed as an elite group of scholars. This was serious work, and I felt more than a bit of pride as I shared my publications with my family.

At first, these three smart and well-educated practitioners engaged in some silent reading. After a few minutes, they began to raise questions. Concerning a significant point in one of my articles, one of them asked, “When you said this did you mean . . .this?” followed by a rephrasing of my academic language in a more practical way. I answered in the affirmative, pleased that he seemed to understand the point I had made in the article. Then another asked about a different passage in the other of my articles, similarly rephrasing what I had written. Once again, I affirmed his interpretation. Next, after I expressed general agreement with yet another more practical translation of a portion of an article, one of my brothers asked me a follow-up question, “Then why didn’t you say it that way?” What followed was a lively exchange about academic writing and the use of (in their view, sometimes unnecessary) technical language . . . and a good lesson for me in terms of not taking my role as an academic too seriously nor allowing it to needlessly separate me from some of the intelligent nonacademic professionals who might be able to make use of my research and published work.

The second event took place on an elevator of the main conference hotel for one of the annual meetings of the Academy of Management (AOM), arguably the most significant association of management scholars in the world. I was with my then pre-teen son who was having his first experience staying at an AOM conference hotel. It was perhaps halfway through the conference when I asked him what he thought about this bustling gathering (by then, he had been through the hotel several times and all across the immediate surrounding area, frequently in the presence of many conference attendees). He responded with a shrug saying “it’s a bunch of nerdy egghead professors, Dad.” I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised at the way he viewed this large meeting of scholars, but I couldn’t help but laugh at his simple, direct dismissal of this seemingly impressive gathering.

Over the years, learning from experiences such as these, I have intentionally tried to assure that I, and my coauthors when I worked with them, didn’t take myself/ourselves too seriously and, more importantly, found some balance and enjoyment in what we were doing (e.g., adding pleasant nonwork activities to go along with our intellectual efforts, as well as doing our work in enjoyable places when possible and keeping things light when we needed to during our work process). Sometimes, I succeeded (although admittedly at other times I did not) and I have reached a useful personal conclusion—coauthor teams that have the most fun together seem to be the ones that do the most and best work. The major breakthrough on a conceptual model we are wrestling with might take place after sampling a nice Pinot during a wine tasting. Or, finally figuring out how to more clearly state a troubling proposition may follow a particularly impressive act of a Cirque du Soleil show. Or maybe it is a coveted eye role from our spouses after a bad joke over a group dinner that triggers an insight about how to interpret some troublesome data. Even more, I have been hearing similar reports from colleagues on other research teams—for example, inspiration and creative thinking triggered by enjoyable writing retreats that incorporate spring-training baseball games, hikes, site seeing, and/or dining at adventurous restaurants. The formula seems straightforward—balance fun with the work (which frequently becomes more naturally enjoyable in its own right) and productivity and quality often increases significantly.

I would also like to share a few thoughts about a small sample of what I have discovered personally helps me find some balance in my life in this often very (perhaps too) serious career path as an academic researcher and professor . . . and I believe it has supported my best work. I recognize that I take a risk here of exposing myself as a bit too Pollyanna-like for the taste of some . . . and I must confess I have sometimes had to fight my own inner protests from my more critical academic side as I have tried to incorporate these strategies in my life. In addition, I suspect what I have to share is not all that new for many readers, but mainly a reaffirmation of what you might already know implicitly. But I hope it is nevertheless a worthwhile exercise to consider these ideas and many other possibilities that may come to mind in the way of the kind of good-humored choices we might make in our work.

But first, another little story . . . A number of years ago, I encountered a PhD student at a major U.S. research university with a rather unusual demeanor. I remember during my first encounter with him he asked me, “How are you, Dr. Manz,” in an enthusiastic upbeat tone. I replied that I was fine and asked how he was. He responded, “I’m great . . . I’m great every day because that is the how I choose to be.” More than anything I remember his great big smile. This was quite a contrast to the more serious tone in the halls of the college and I remember being a bit skeptical. I also remember this student being considered by a number of my colleagues as rather suspect and not being taken very seriously. At one point, he was given some negative feedback that seemed to reflect concern about his “nonserious” attitude and he considered leaving the program. Nevertheless, he stuck with it. In fact, as time passed, he blossomed, ultimately receiving the highest teaching evaluations in the department and having more papers accepted than any previous student by the time he earned his degree. Indeed, his cheerful nature was paired with very effective performance. And bit by bit, he seemed to raise the general mood in the department (rather than caving to all the serious socialization pressure) and eventually came to be viewed as a particularly strong student.

This brief story leads me to one of the most straightforward and effective ways that has helped me to find some balance, enjoyment, and clarity of mind, even in the middle of a very trying workday. It is simply to stop what I am doing and sincerely smile. I just try to think about all I have to be grateful for and to appreciate, let go of the pressures and stress for a moment, and smile. I don’t try to force a smile while I continue to struggle with immediate problems (although I’ve found even this can be helpful), but instead I concentrate on smiling like I mean it. If you doubt this simple prescription, I suggest you take a minute and try it for yourself (and I purposely chose the word “minute” to suggest that the smile needs to last for more than a couple seconds). I find it helpful to think of a time when I was especially happy and reconnect with that experience in my mind, and then a smile usually comes automatically.

Of course, we know that some research has revealed that smiling can actually change blood flow, physical chemistry, and elevate mood. It’s even more potent when accompanied by the second, directly related strategy, which I’d like to share, that has helped me a great deal—have a good laugh. I have used humorous reading material, audio programs, and funny scenes of movies, and especially joking around with colleagues, as practical tools to help trigger a good laugh accompanied by plenty of smiling. Also, tapping into memories of life’s funny moments (especially if they produced a genuine belly laugh) can generate relief when it is most needed.

As the old saying goes, I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve witnessed a tense situation transformed by finding some humor in the moment. I’ve seen these transformations in business meetings, training sessions, and during conflicts between colleagues. I’ve also witnessed the positive power of humor in classrooms, in families, in churches, and in many other settings that are often ripe with emotion. If even one person can stay “sane” enough in tense moments to keep things in perspective and use humor to dissolve some of the emotional tension, a dramatic release can occur. So I’ve asked myself, “Why not choose to be that person as often as I can?”

There is growing research, by psychologist Barbara Fredrickson (2008) among others, that suggests how much more effective we can be when experiencing some discrete positive emotions rather than negative emotions. This research suggests that through positive emotion, we have access to more personal and social resources, are better able to reach creative solutions, can integrate information better, and can enjoy better health. This research also suggests that not only can such emotion support clearer thinking and enhanced personal effectiveness, but it can also support a more satisfying and fulfilling life. Indeed, it appears that to the extent that humor can help trigger our positive emotional capacity, we can reconnect with our serious strengths even in upsetting and otherwise potentially debilitating situations.

One classic example is provided by author Norman Cousins in the face of one of life’s greatest and most disturbing challenges. In his book Head First (1990), he recounts how he used humor to thrive in the midst of a life-threatening struggle with cancer. Rather than choosing hopelessness and despair, and instead surrounding himself with a variety of humorous programs and materials, he claims he overcame his personal health challenges with the powerful healing effects of humor. Not a serious scholarly work for sure but nonetheless, a thought-provoking treatise about why we may not want to take ourselves and life too seriously, even when faced with seemingly overwhelming reasons to be nothing but serious.

To sum up, here is the message that I try to remind myself of at the times when my work and life seems to be dragging me down:

When we take our work and life seriously enough to choose to smile and laugh, if only for a few moments, even in stressful situations, maybe we will find more balance and natural enjoyment in what we do . . . and maybe do it better as well.

This is a choice I have tried to make for myself, and on many difficult occasions, it has helped me find what I seemed to most need to be able to move forward constructively in my work and life. I end with a story that can serve as just one example (it is actually a composite of several instances I have observed in my research and my own work experience over the years) of how not being too serious might help, even in seriously difficult situations.