"National Speakers Association" founder Cavett 
		Roberts was once asked by an audience member (a professional speaker 
		herself), "I'm not really a funny person, so do I HAVE to use humor?"  
		
		Without hesitation, Cavett replied, "No no no.  You don't have to 
		use humor.  Unless you want to get paid."  After a pause to 
		catch his meaning, the whole audience laughed loudly, including her, as 
		they got his point.
		Case in point:  A potential client called 
		me, inquiring, "I've been all over your website and I like what I see 
		about you as a speaking coach, but I also see that you're 'The Improv 
		Guy'.  I'm giving an hour-long presentation about Lou Gehrig's 
		Disease so there's no room for humor in this 
		program.  Got it?"
		"Gotcha," I responded, echoing 
		the fact that I knew where he was coming 
		from, not necessarily my agreement.  I knew there were a half-dozen 
		other more important issues on his plate, so humor was low on my 
		agenda.  But not off the table in my mind.
		John met 
		with me and, over the course of several 
		visits, we rearranged much of his program to improve the flow, re-did a 
		PowerPoint that was going to yield snoozing, worked on simplifying his 
		wording, and lifting his delivery energy.  With each visit, he 
		became more excited.  
		On his fifth visit, he burst in and said, "Okay, I can't wait to hear 
		what today's focus is going to be!  What is it?"
		I smiled 
		broadly and stated, "Humor!"
		His face 
		hit the floor.  "You gotta be kidding me!  How clear 
		was I that there's no room for humor in this speech?  I'll have 400 
		medical professionals furious at me for being so insensitive!"  He 
		looked visibly shaken and I could see he was almost angry.
		I held my hand up.  "Let's start with an 
		absolute.  We are never, ever, ever, ever, ever...going to make fun 
		of anyone suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease.  Are you with me so 
		far?"
		This settled him a bit.  Unsurely, he 
		offered, "Okay..."
		"Good.  You're speaking to a group of people 
		who mostly do research.  Are there some stereotypes about 
		researchers that we can poke fun at?"
		He paused.  A hint of a smile eked out.  
		"Yeah, we're kind of an odd bunch, actually."
		"Great!  How about, are there some things we 
		thought about Lou Gehrig's Disease once upon a time and now they seem 
		ridiculous, given what we've come to discover?"
		His eyes opened, "Yes!  Some of the early 
		theories DO seem funny after all this time."
		We brainstormed some more and his defenses went 
		down.  "Are you sure it's going to be okay to include these 
		moments?"
		"There are no guarantees, but the types of humor 
		that we've come up with feel quite safe.  What I can guarantee you 
		is that, without them, the program is going to seem a lot drier."
		After one more appointment, he was off to 
		Australia to give the presentation.  In the end, we'd found him 
		just four laugh lines in his one-hour program.  Not exactly a stand-up 
		comedy routine, but enough to lighten up his program quite a bit.  
		A few days later, I got an email from him.
		"I'm at the airport awaiting my flight home.  
		I couldn't wait to tell you that it went great!  And holy cow, were 
		you right!  I had people slapping me on the back...telling me I hit 
		it out of the ballpark!  And saying how funny it was!  I would 
		never have dreamed that a mere four laughs in an hour would make such a 
		difference!"
		I wrote back, "I'm curious: How many laughs there were 
		in the rest of the three-day conference combined?"
		Within minutes, he wrote back, "None.  My 
		speech yielded the only signs of life in the audience in the whole 
		conference."
		My reply: "After you made them laugh once ten 
		minutes in and then again about 25 minutes in, you had them through all 
		of the drier material, because they were waiting on the next laugh.  
		And then you came through not once, but twice more.  And it's not 
		about how much they laughed, John.  It's about the fact that they 
		were paying attention to everything else because of it."
		After his flight, I heard back once more:  
		"So true.  Thank you for not playing into my fear of humor.  
		The other stuff we did probably made a bigger difference overall, but 
		I'm so glad you didn't let me scare you off on humor because it was like 
		the cherry on top of it all."
		I've seen humor succeed in presentations on 
		cancer, accounting, internal auditing, labor cut-backs, and even 
		eulogies.  If it can work with these situations, I'm hard-pressed 
		to believe it can't work for almost anything...when used wisely.