Jim Whitt, Contributing Editor

I read an interesting article James Kaplan wrote about Jerry Seinfeld in a recent issue of Parade Magazine. The thing that was most interesting to me was to discover that, as a child, Seinfeld considered himself to be “very quiet, very withdrawn.” It’s hard to imagine Jerry Seinfeld as an introvert isn’t it? I mean the guy made his living as a standup comedian before starring in his own sitcom. So, how did be break out of his shell? It began when he started acting in student productions while at Queens College. In one play, he ad-libbed a little humor and the director, not finding him funny, told him to “tone it down.” How would you like to go through life known as the guy who told Jerry Seinfeld he needed to get serious? It reminds me of when I got a paddling for talking in the first grade. If my first-grade teacher could see me now — I make a big part of my living getting paid to talk and she tried to beat it out of me.

When Seinfeld saw comedians perform in New York, he started thinking, I could do that. So, he auditioned at a bar and got hired. And that is how Jerry Seinfeld went from being a quiet, withdrawn introvert to becoming the undisputed king of situation comedy on television. Makes you think, doesn’t it? Have you ever observed a professional at work and said to yourself, I could do that? Maybe you could. But there’s only one way to find out. Do it. But don’t expect to become an overnight success. Seinfeld admits to hitting his share of speed bumps on the road to the top, including freezing on stage “like the proverbial deer in the headlights.” But that’s to be expected. I remember taking a speech class in junior college where we all had to give a ten-minute speech on the topic of our choice. I was trying my hand at bull riding at the time so I brought my gear bag to class and attempted to enlighten my fellow students on the finer points of riding a bull. As I pulled my bull rope out of the bag to explain how it was to be used a nervous tremor overtook me. I started shaking so hard that the bell attached to the rope started ringing. It was humiliating. I was more scared delivering that speech than I was riding a bull. I’ve suffered many more humiliations in my speaking career but survived to tell about them. As painful as it was at the time, I can laugh about my bull riding speech now.

Kaplan asked Seinfeld if he’d ever had to battle any personal demons. “The only demon that really counts is the lazy demon,” he said. “And we’re all lazy. But every human being has to figure out a way to get your ass to do something.” That’s bold talk coming from a guy who starred in a show “about nothing.” But I think we all get the point.

Seinfeld’s journey to stardom reminds me of a book I just read entitled The Oz Principle. In the book, authors Roger Connors, Tom Smith and Craig Hickman challenge readers to take a journey to a mythical land. No, not the Land of Oz, but one that may seem just as distant and difficult to find — the land of accountability. In fact, the subtitle of their book is Getting Results Through Individual and Organizational Accountability.

The Wizard of Oz movie was released in 1939 but because of television, it has never wandered far from our imaginations. It was based on L. Frank Baum’s book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, which was written in 1899. So what does a 19th century story have to do with accountability in the 21 st century? Because, according to the authors of The Oz Principle, the story’s characters take a journey to find a wizard and in the end find themselves.

Dorothy wants to go home. The Scarecrow wants a brain. The Tin Man wants a heart. The Lion wants courage. They believe the great and powerful Oz can give them what they want. Well, as you know, the wizard turns out to be just as lost as Dorothy is. He was unintentionally exiled from earth while flying a hot air balloon at a Kansas fair. Imagine the disappointment when Dorothy and her fellow travelers discover the wizard can’t grant them their wishes.

“Unfortunately,” write the authors, “even the most ardent admirers of the story often fail to learn its simple lessons: Don’t get stuck on the yellow brick road; don’t blame others for your circumstances; don’t wait for wizards to wave their magic wands; and never expect all of your problems to disappear. In today’s complex environment, the temptation to feel and act like victims has become so pervasive that it has created a very real crisis.”

Like Dorothy said, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Instead we find ourselves in the Land of Victimhood. It has to be someone else’s fault — the government, the manufacturer, your boss, your employee, your coworker, your parents, etc. We want to blame someone else and want someone else to fix it. We have been conditioned, in the Land of Victimhood, to believe a wicked witch holds us under a spell that renders us powerless. This is known as “learned helplessness.”

Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Lion already possessed what each was seeking. The great and powerful Oz turned out to be more of a consultant than a wizard — he simply showed them they already possessed the attributes they desired. It’s like the Good Witch told Dorothy — she could have gone home anytime but she had to discover that for herself. And so do we. Like the characters in The Wizard of Oz, we fail to understand the power we possess. We have been given the great and powerful gift of free will. We have the power of choice. If we don’t like the results we’re getting, then we need to understand that they’re a result of our choices. If something goes wrong we need to stop asking, “Who’s to blame?” and start asking, “What do I need to do to fix it?” Consider the steps to accountability in The Oz Principle: See it, own it, solve it and do it.

It’s easy to go through life as a spectator, living vicariously through the lives of people who are actually doing something. There’s no risk, no pressure and no expectations. You can’t make any mistakes so there’s no accountability. As a Monday morning quarterback, I can tell you everything that the losing team should have done. But am I willing to put myself in the game? I could do that. Really? Well, there’s only one way to find out. Say no to the lazy demon and give it a go. You’ll never know what you can do — until you try.

You already possess everything you need for your journey on the yellow brick road — a heart, a brain, courage — but if you don’t use it, you lose it. And if you take a wrong turn, don’t blame a wicked witch or expect a wizard to show up with a GPS. Instead, close your eyes, click your heels together three times and tell yourself what you need to do. Then do it.

Please e-mail comments to Jim Whitt at jim@whittenterprises.com.

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