The Beatles were before my time. Even so, last month we saw them in concert. A group of 50-something men wearing wigs, playing guitars and drums, and performing as the Beatles. They were good. Quite good in fact. The whole audience thought so (with the possible exception of my teenage children who rolled their eyes [but not too much]). Their performance – the Beatles’ not my teenagers – made me think about performing. What motivates them to dress up (black suits and ties), out on stage, and sing for a fickle group of aging tourists? Perhaps the thrill of the applause? Or the gratification of people singing along (is there even one Beetles song that we don’t know?). The opportunity to be heard and valued?  Yes. We all want to be heard and valued. Each in our own way. Each needing varying amounts of applause. But each of us needing some.

The audience is a community. The songs are gifts to the group. The cheers are evidence that the audience values the contribution of the performers.

They were putting it out there. The lights were apparently hot. They were taking a risk. Any performer is. Putting their talents out into the world and hoping they’ll be met with approval. Toward the beginning, some people walked out. How rude. Rejection. Does the band console themselves that those people had children who just needed to get to bed? Or do they tell themselves that they just can’t please everyone? No matter our performance, rejection will surely come sometimes. One author-friend told me that he never reads his reviews. It hurts too much. People are fickle. There will be audiences or readers or bosses or coworkers who love us. There will be those who don’t. But we have to keep singing.

I wondered about their day – those guys dressed up like the Beatles. While they were having dinner at home before the show, were they looking forward to it? Or was it just another show? Each night was probably different. They sure looked like they were having fun, anyway. Perhaps they were or perhaps that was a part of the performance. Either way, we loved them for it. The very best – performers, waiters, business people, whatever – are best because they like what they do – or have decided to be happy doing it. Our work doesn’t have to be deep and soul-feeding to be joyful. It helps if it is. But I think joy is also a choice. And it makes us good at what we do. As audience members, we most enjoy the show when the singer is lovin’ it too. Or aerobics when the instructor brings a great energy to it. Or dinner out when the waiter is competent and friendly. Enthusiasm is infectious. It moves the world.

Depending on our work, joy my be a greater or lesser challenge to achieve though. When we hurt or are unfulfilled or just not feeling that great, to square our shoulders and go forward with positivity is our emotional labor. All of us express this manufactured happiness sometimes. In the best of circumstances, the manufacture doesn’t have to be too frequent. There are ups and downs but hopefully, a natural happiness can occur more than the forced kind. I have a friend who works at a law firm. She works hard. She works long hours. She invests in the firm’s success. But her biggest outlay is the emotional effort she puts into creating a good attitude every day in the face of a situation that has become draining. She’s looking for another position at a new company – now in her final rounds of interviews for the new role. She needs a better deal – more in return for the investment she’s making and the performance she’s contributing.

And there’s the relationship: Enthusiasm and performance in exchange for some expression that the performer is valued. My performance for your applause. My good work for your expression of gratitude or positive comments. This sounds like a transaction – but to the contrary – we’re entering into a relationship. Me and you. I give parts of myself. You contribute. We create something together. An experience we share. The dinner out, the business meeting, the morning aerobics class, the performance.

I Want to Hold Your Hand. Let It Be.