people tend to make others jealous, placing themselves at risk of being disliked, resented, ostracized,
and undermined. But if these talented people are also givers, they no longer have a target on their
backs. Instead, givers are appreciated for their contributions to the group. By taking on tasks that his
colleagues didn’t want, Meyer was able to dazzle them with his wit and humor without eliciting envy.
Meyer summarizes his code of honor as “(1) Show up. (2) Work hard. (3) Be kind. (4) Take the
high road.” As he contributed in ways that revealed his skills without spawning jealousy, colleagues
began to admire and trust his comedic genius. “People started to see him as somebody who wasn’t
just motivated personally,” Tim Long explains. “You don’t think of him as a competitor. He’s someone
you can think of on a higher plane, and can trust creatively.” Carolyn Omine adds, “Compared to other
writers’ rooms I’ve been in, I would say The Simpsons tends to look longer for jokes. I think it’s
because we have writers, like George, who will say, ‘No, that’s not quite right,’ even if it’s late, even
if we’re all tired. I think that’s an important quality. We need those people, like George, who aren’t
afraid to say, ‘No, this isn’t good enough. We can do better.’”
In a classic article, the psychologist Edwin Hollander argued that when people act generously in
groups, they earn idiosyncrasy credits—positive impressions that accumulate in the minds of group
members. Since many people think like matchers, when they work in groups, it’s very common for
them to keep track of each member’s credits and debits. Once a group member earns idiosyncrasy
credits through giving, matchers grant that member a license to deviate from a group’s norms or
expectations. As Berkeley sociologist Robb Willer summarizes, “Groups reward individual
sacrifice.” On The Simpsons, Meyer amassed plenty of idiosyncrasy credits, earning latitude to
contribute original ideas and shift the creative direction of the show. “One of the best things about
developing that credibility was if I wanted to try something that was fairly strange, people would be
willing to at least give it a shot at the table read,” Meyer reflects. “They ended up not rewriting my
stuff as much as they had early on, because they knew I had a decent track record. I think people saw
that my heart was in the right place—my intentions were good. That goes a long way.”
In line with Meyer’s experience, research shows that givers get extra credit when they offer ideas
that challenge the status quo. In studies that I conducted with colleagues Sharon Parker and Catherine
Collins, when takers presented suggestions for improvement, colleagues were skeptical of their
intentions, writing them off as self-serving. But when ideas that might be threatening were proposed
by givers, their colleagues listened and rewarded them for speaking up, knowing they were motivated
by a genuine desire to contribute. “When I think about George in a writers’ room, nice is not what I
would say. He’s spicier than that.” Carolyn Omine laughs. “But when George is tough, you know it is
only because he cares so much about getting it right.”
In 1995, during the sixth Simpsons season, Meyer told his colleagues he would be leaving the
show at the end of the season. Rather than seeing his departure as an opportunity for personal
advancement, the writers didn’t want to let him go. They quickly joined forces to recruit him back,
persuading him to return as a consultant. Soon they had him all the way back as a full-time writer. “At
a very early point, they realized that George was too important to let out of the room,” Jon Vitti told
the Harvard Crimson. “Nobody’s opinion is more valued than George’s.” Looking back on his
experiences working with Meyer, Tim Long adds that “there’s something magical about getting the
reputation as someone who cares about others more than yourself. It redounds to your benefit in
countless ways.”
michael s
(Michael S)
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