My Thoughts
What Stand-Up Comedians Know About Running Training Workshops That Most Supervisors Don't
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Three months ago, I sat through what had to be the most excruciating supervisor training workshop of my career. The facilitator – a well-meaning HR professional with seventeen PowerPoint slides about "active listening" – managed to lose half the room before morning tea. By lunch, people were checking emails. By 3pm, the maintenance supervisor was genuinely asleep.
That night, I caught a comedy show at the Tivoli in Brisbane. The comedian bombed spectacularly for the first five minutes, then completely turned the room around. Watching him work, something clicked. This bloke understood audience engagement in ways that most corporate trainers never will.
Here's the uncomfortable truth: most supervisor training workshops fail because they're designed by people who've never had to hold a hostile crowd's attention for two hours straight. Comedians? They've been doing exactly that every night for years.
The Opening Five Minutes Are Everything
Stand-up comedians know they have about thirty seconds to establish credibility with an audience. Thirty seconds. Not the leisurely ten minutes most training facilitators use for introductions and housekeeping.
I've been running supervisory training courses for over fifteen years now, and I can tell you the moment someone decides whether they're going to engage or mentally check out. It happens faster than you think.
The best comedians start with material that connects immediately with their audience's shared experience. "Anyone here ever had to explain to their boss why the project's running late when the real reason is Kevin from accounting?" That's comedy gold because it's universally relatable.
Compare that to the typical training workshop opener: "Today we're going to explore best practices in supervisory communication methodologies." Instant engagement killer.
Read the Room or Die
Comedians are obsessed with reading their audience. They adjust their material based on crowd energy, demographics, even the time of day. A 2pm Thursday crowd in Parramatta is different from a 9pm Saturday crowd in Surfers Paradise.
Yet somehow, corporate trainers often deliver identical content to a room full of construction supervisors and a room full of retail managers. Makes no sense.
I learned this the hard way during a particularly disastrous session in Perth. Walked into a room expecting mid-level supervisors and found myself facing fifteen site foremen who'd been up since 4am. My carefully prepared module on "emotional intelligence frameworks" went down like a lead balloon.
The smart move? Scrap the planned content and start talking about managing teams under pressure, dealing with difficult subcontractors, and keeping projects on track when everything's going sideways. Same core principles, completely different delivery.
Bombing Is Data, Not Failure
Here's where comedians are genuinely ahead of the curve: they treat failure as feedback, not catastrophe. When a joke doesn't land, they note it and move on. When an entire set bombs, they analyse what went wrong and adjust for next time.
Most training facilitators panic when something doesn't work. They double down on the failing approach or apologise their way through the rest of the session. Comedians cut their losses and pivot.
I once watched a facilitator spend twenty minutes trying to get a group exercise to work that was clearly dead in the water. Everyone was confused, participation was non-existent, and the energy in the room was flatlining. A comedian would've killed that exercise after two minutes and moved to something else.
The difference is mindset. Comedians expect some material to fail. They build flexibility into their sets. Training facilitators often treat their session plans like sacred texts that can't be deviated from.
Timing Beats Content Every Time
Ask any professional comedian what separates the good from the great, and they'll tell you: timing. The same joke can kill or die based purely on when and how it's delivered.
Training facilitators rarely think about timing beyond keeping to the schedule. But consider this: attention spans naturally dip at predictable points. Energy crashes happen. People get restless.
Comedians structure their sets around these natural rhythms. They know when to hit hard with their best material, when to slow things down, when to bring the energy back up. They understand that a well-timed pause can be more powerful than ten minutes of content.
I've started applying this thinking to workshop design, and the difference is remarkable. Instead of cramming information into every available minute, I build in strategic breaks, energy shifts, and what comedians call "callback moments" – references that tie back to earlier content in ways that make people feel smart for getting the connection.
The Heckler Problem
Every comedian deals with hecklers. Every training facilitator deals with difficult participants. The approaches are surprisingly similar.
The worst thing you can do with a heckler is ignore them or try to shut them down aggressively. Comedians know this instinctively. They acknowledge the disruption, deal with it directly, and then move on. Often, they'll find a way to incorporate the heckler into the performance without making them the star.
I had a supervisor in one of my sessions who kept interrupting with stories about "how we used to do things." Classic derailing behaviour. Instead of fighting it, I started asking him specific questions that tied his experience to the points I was making. Suddenly, he became an asset instead of an obstacle.
The key is understanding that most disruptive behaviour comes from people who feel overlooked or undervalued. Give them a moment to shine, show respect for their experience, then redirect the energy back to the group.
Material That Works vs Material That Feels Good
Here's something most trainers get backwards: the content that makes you feel smart isn't necessarily the content that works for your audience.
Comedians learn this painfully. A joke that kills your comedian friends might die with a general audience. Similarly, training content that impresses other trainers might be completely useless for actual supervisors.
I used to include a section on neuroscience research in my leadership workshops because it made me sound credible and evidence-based. Turns out, front-line supervisors don't care about mirror neurons. They care about how to have difficult conversations with underperforming team members without everything turning into a drama.
The best comedians write for their audience, not for other comedians. The best trainers design for their participants, not for other trainers.
Recovery Techniques
When a comedian's set is going badly, they have recovery techniques. Callbacks to earlier successful moments. Self-deprecating observations about the performance itself. Ways to acknowledge that things aren't working and reset the room's energy.
Training facilitators need the same toolkit. Too often, when a session starts going south, facilitators either pretend nothing's wrong or panic and lose all credibility.
I keep what I call "emergency material" ready for these moments. Short, engaging activities that work with any group. Stories that reliably get people laughing and re-engaged. Questions that can redirect a derailed discussion back to something useful.
The Long Game
Professional comedians think about their entire career arc, not just individual performances. They build material over years, test it repeatedly, and understand that becoming truly excellent takes time.
Most corporate training is treated as a one-off transaction. People attend a workshop, tick a box, and that's it. But the supervisors who genuinely improve their skills? They're the ones who keep learning, practicing, and refining their approach over time.
The comedy industry has something called "stage time" – the hours a comedian spends actually performing in front of audiences. You can't become good without it. Similarly, supervisory skills improve through practice, feedback, and gradual refinement.
Why This Matters Now
Look, I'm not suggesting we turn every training session into amateur hour at the comedy club. But there's genuine wisdom in understanding how to engage an audience, maintain attention, and deliver content that actually sticks.
The supervisors coming through our programs today are dealing with remote teams, multiple generations in the workplace, and constant technological change. They need skills that are immediately applicable, memorable, and adaptable to different situations.
The old model of standing at the front and lecturing about management theory doesn't cut it anymore. People have too many distractions, too many competing priorities, and frankly, too many other options for how they spend their professional development time.
The Bottom Line
After fifteen years of running workshops and watching hundreds of other facilitators in action, I'm convinced that the best training borrows heavily from performance arts. Not because we're entertainers, but because entertainers understand human psychology in ways that most corporate learning never will.
The next time you're designing a supervisor training program, ask yourself: would this work at the Comedy Store? If not, maybe it's time to steal some techniques from people who make their living keeping audiences engaged.
Because at the end of the day, if you can't hold people's attention, all the best content in the world won't make a difference.
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