Professional With A Punchline

When Everything Feels Too Serious to Laugh

Public affairs isn’t exactly known for its lightness. It’s a world of high stakes, careful language, and calculated timing. We deal in reputations, relationships, and sometimes, crises. The work matters, deeply. But sometimes, it matters so much that we forget to breathe.

And in the process, we forget something else, too: that humor doesn’t make the work less important. It makes it more bearable. Especially when it’s hard.

Humor as a Survival Skill

When I got laid off, people kept asking when I was free. And I kept thinking, today. Tomorrow. The day after that.

It was funny — and not. That one line held exhaustion, uncertainty, and more than a little fear. But it also helped me process what had just happened. Humor gave structure to the shapelessness.

Because the thing about mission-driven work is that it’s often emotionally heavy. We work on issues that don’t have easy solutions. Sometimes we advocate for change that won’t come for years, if at all. And in that kind of work, where the stakes are real and the outcomes are slow, humor isn’t a distraction. It’s a lifeline.

The absurdity? It can be deeply meaningful. It helps us name the contradictions. It softens the blow. It reminds us that we’re still human.

Humor doesn’t make the work less important. It makes it more bearable.

Humor in the Wild

I’ll never forget the time an email I wrote got leaked to a reporter. It wasn’t scandalous, just routine comms. But suddenly, we got a press inquiry about it.

At first, I was mortified. Then it hit me: this is ridiculous. Out of all the things worth leaking in the world, someone thought my email was the story? It was dumb, and honestly hilarious. That moment of levity helped me shake off the embarrassment and remember: the stakes are high, but not everything is life or death.

In Defense of Sarcasm

Sarcasm gets a bad rap and sometimes, it deserves it. It can be cutting, lazy, performative. But that’s not the only form it takes.

Sometimes sarcasm is just another way to say this is messed up when there’s no roadmap for what comes next.

Especially for those navigating inequity or burnout or bureaucratic chaos, sarcasm can become a kind of shorthand. A pressure valve. A way to tell the truth out loud without having to stage a full intervention.

It’s not about cynicism. It’s about clarity, the kind that sees the dysfunction and calls it by name, with a raised eyebrow and maybe a little deadpan delivery.

In Praise of Self-Deprecation

Then there’s the quieter kind of humor: self-deprecation. Some see it as insecurity. But when it’s done well — with awareness, not apology — it’s actually a sign of confidence.

It says: I know who I am. I know I’m not perfect. And I’m okay with that.

For me, self-deprecating humor has never been about diminishing myself. It’s about diffusing tension. About laughing at the things that used to paralyze me. About making room for others to show up imperfectly, too.

Nothing builds trust faster than someone willing to poke fun at themselves, especially in a room where everyone else is trying to perform perfection.

Other Kinds of Humor We Forget

Humor isn’t only sarcasm or self-deprecation. In public affairs, we see the full range:

• Gallows humor, when the stakes are so dire you laugh because the alternative is despair.

• Observational humor, pointing out absurdities in how systems actually work versus how they’re designed.

• “You can’t make this up” humor, the kind that shows up when reality is stranger than satire.

Each has its place. Each can keep us going.

Humor at Work — the Good Kind

I’ve been lucky to work with people who were deeply serious about their work and also knew how to laugh about it. Not in a dismissive way, but in a let’s-not-take-ourselves-too-seriously-even-when-the-issue-is-serious kind of way.

The best leaders I’ve worked with could hold space for both: urgency and humility. A plan and a punchline.

Humor didn’t take away from the mission. It gave us the energy to keep going. It gave us permission to be people: flawed, funny, and fully in it together.

Of course, humor has to be used with care. A joke that lands in the wrong direction can undercut trust, trivialize pain, or reinforce inequity. But when it’s grounded in empathy and shared understanding, it can carry a team further than any pep talk.

What It Reminds Us

That we’re not just résumés or roles.
That sometimes the best response to a wildly broken system is to laugh and then get back to work.
That when the mission feels heavy, absurdity can be clarifying.

And that humor, especially the kind that comes from experience and shared understanding, is part of what makes the work sustainable.

Final Thought

Humor doesn’t make you less serious. It makes you more human.

And in public affairs, where messaging is high-stakes and perception is currency, being human is still your best asset.

So if you’re navigating something hard, and you catch yourself cracking a joke in the middle of it? That’s not avoidance. That’s resilience. That’s knowing how to hold weight and levity at the same time. That’s the muscle that keeps us grounded, connected, and able to show up again the next day.

Because sometimes, the only way through the serious stuff is to laugh at it first.