Olivia: Alright, Jackson. Acting with Power. Five-word review. Go. Jackson: Power isn't a crown, it's a costume. Olivia: Ooh, I like that. Mine is: Stop faking it, start acting. Jackson: Okay, I'm intrigued. And a little confused. Let's get into it. Olivia: I think that confusion is exactly where we need to start. Today we are diving deep into Acting with Power: Why We Are More Powerful Than We Believe by Deborah Gruenfeld. Jackson: And Gruenfeld isn't just a self-help author, right? This comes from a pretty serious background. Olivia: Exactly. She’s a distinguished social psychologist at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. This book is essentially the public version of her wildly popular, and apparently life-changing, Stanford course that blends hard social science with techniques from the world of theater and acting. Jackson: A Stanford business course that teaches you how to act. That already challenges a lot of what I think about power. My first thought, honestly, is that 'acting' with power just sounds… inauthentic. Like you're being a phony. Olivia: It’s the most common and most important question, and Gruenfeld tackles it head-on with her own story. It’s the perfect place to start.

Jackson: You mean the author herself felt like a fake? Olivia: Completely. She tells this incredibly relatable story from early in her career. She’s just graduated with her PhD in psychology and lands a job as a professor at Northwestern University’s prestigious business school. She’s an expert on power dynamics on paper, but in reality, she feels like a total imposter. Jackson: Oh, I know that feeling. I think everyone has felt that at some point. You’re in the room, but you’re just waiting for someone to tap you on the shoulder and say, "Excuse me, you don't belong here." Olivia: Precisely. She’s standing in front of these MBA students, who are older, more experienced, and she feels like a fraud. She’s supposed to be the authority, the expert, but inside she’s just… Deborah, the recent grad who feels powerless. Jackson: So what changed? Olivia: The university brought in a theater consultant, a woman named Barbara Lanebrown, to help the faculty improve their teaching. And her approach was bizarre to these academics. She didn't talk about pedagogy; she talked about acting. She asked them, "What 'characters' do you bring to the stage when you lecture?" Jackson: I can just imagine the eye-rolls from a room full of professors. Olivia: Totally. But then they started doing these theater exercises, and they discovered they all had this hidden army of characters inside them—the passionate expert, the nervous wreck, the stern disciplinarian. Gruenfeld realized she was trying so hard to be "herself," but she was self-censoring. She was hiding the parts of herself she thought were "un-professorial," including the powerful ones. Jackson: Ah, so the breakthrough wasn't learning to be someone else. Olivia: Exactly. The breakthrough was realizing that "playing the professor" wasn't about being fake. It was about accepting the role that the students and the institution needed her to play. It was a shared social reality. Her personal insecurities were getting in the way of her fulfilling the responsibilities of the role. Power, she realized, isn't a personal trait you either have or you don't. It's a role you play in someone else's story. Jackson: Let me see if I got that right. It’s less about pretending to be a powerful person, and more about choosing which part of your actual self is the most useful for the situation you're in. Olivia: You've nailed it. It’s about self-management, not fabrication. It reminds me of that great Judi Dench quote Gruenfeld uses: "The trick is to take the work seriously, but not take yourself seriously at all." Your role is serious. Your personal baggage about it? Not so much. Jackson: That reframes everything. It makes power feel less like this big, scary, innate quality and more like a skill you can practice. A part you can learn. Olivia: And once you see it as a performance, you can start learning the moves. The book makes it very simple. There are really only two fundamental moves in the entire play of power.

Jackson: Okay, so if power is a performance, what are the actual moves? What does the script look like? Olivia: Gruenfeld boils it down to two core actions: "playing high" and "playing low." Jackson: High and low. Sounds simple enough. What do they mean? Olivia: "Playing high" is what we typically think of as power. It's asserting dominance. Taking up physical space, speaking with a lower vocal tone, interrupting, making direct eye contact, pulling rank. It sends the message, "I'm in charge here." Jackson: Right, the classic "alpha" behavior. I can picture the boardroom bully. Olivia: Exactly. But then there's "playing low." This is the move we often misunderstand as weakness, but it can be incredibly powerful. It's about showing deference. Listening intently, asking for help, using self-deprecating humor, making yourself smaller. It sends the message, "You are important, I value you." Jackson: That feels counterintuitive. How is making yourself smaller a power move? It sounds like just being submissive. Olivia: Because it builds trust and connection. It makes others feel safe. And when people feel safe, they are more open to your influence. The book argues that the most effective people are masters of both. They know when to command the room and when to build the relationship. Most of us just default to one or the other. Jackson: Can you give me an example of playing low being the stronger move? Especially in a high-stakes situation. Olivia: There's a fantastic story in the book about Sequoia Capital, one of the most powerful and prestigious venture capital firms in the world. In 2013, a partner named Roelof Botha saw a CEO named Jess Lee give a presentation and knew he had to get her to join their firm. Jackson: So he played high, right? Flashed the money, the prestige, the power of Sequoia? Olivia: That was their first instinct, and it failed. They approached her, and she politely declined. She was loyal to her team. So they had to change their strategy. They did some research and found out that Jess Lee was a huge nerd, in the best way. She loved comics and cosplaying. Jackson: Wait, I think I know where this is going. Olivia: Oh, it's better than you think. Botha and another senior partner, Jim Goetz—these are titans of Silicon Valley, remember—decided to play their power way, way down. They arranged a meeting with her at a coffee shop. And they showed up dressed as Woody and Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. Jackson: No. You're kidding. These multi-billion-dollar VCs dressed up in Halloween costumes for a job offer? Olivia: They did. They presented her with a "Wanted" poster featuring the character Jessie from Toy Story 2, with the job offer on it. And Jess Lee said in that moment, everything clicked. She realized they saw her for who she was, with her "weird hobbies." She knew it would be a team of real relationships, not just transactions. She accepted the offer. Jackson: Wow. That's brilliant! That's the perfect example of not taking yourself seriously! They played their power down to achieve a massive goal. They didn't need to prove they were powerful; everyone already knew that. They needed to prove they were human. Olivia: Exactly. They chose the right character for the scene. It wasn't about being weak; it was about being smart. They used deference and humor to build a bridge, and it worked spectacularly. Jackson: That's the beautiful side of it. But we all know power can be used badly. The book must get into the dark side, right? When the performance turns into abuse. Olivia: It does. And more importantly, it talks about what the rest of us, the audience in the theater of life, can do about it.

Olivia: When power is abused—when someone is bullying, harassing, or demeaning others—the book argues that most of us fall into the role of the bystander. We see it, we feel uncomfortable, but we do nothing. Jackson: Right, because what can you even do? You see something happening, you feel awkward, you don't want to make it worse, you don't want to become the next target. It feels like you have no power in that situation. Olivia: That feeling of helplessness is exactly what allows abuse to continue. But Gruenfeld offers a powerful alternative: shifting from a bystander to an "upstander." And the story she uses to illustrate this is one of my all-time favorites. It's the story of "Snackman." Jackson: Snackman? Okay, you have my full attention. Olivia: This happened on a New York City subway in 2012. A loud, aggressive fight breaks out between a man and a woman. It's escalating, people are shouting, it's getting physical. The whole subway car is tense, and everyone is just staring, frozen. The classic bystander effect in action. Jackson: I can picture it perfectly. Everyone just wants to disappear. Olivia: Except for one guy. A 24-year-old architect named Charles Sonder. He's sitting there, calmly eating a tube of Pringles. As the fight gets more heated, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't look up. He just stands up, still munching on his Pringles, and physically places himself between the two fighting passengers. He becomes a human barrier made of pure, unbothered snack-eating calm. Jackson: He just… stood there? Eating chips? Olivia: That's it. And it was so bizarre, so unexpected, that it instantly broke the spell. The fighters stopped, confused. Another passenger, emboldened by Snackman's move, then stepped in to talk them down. The fight was over. A video of it went viral, and Charles Sonder became a legend: Snackman, the hero who de-escalated a brawl with a can of Pringles. Jackson: Snackman! A true hero for our times! I love that. So being an 'upstander' doesn't mean you have to be a superhero and jump into the fight. It can be a small, clever, boundary-setting move. Olivia: It's about changing the dynamic. The book is full of these strategies. Sometimes it's humor. Sometimes it's asking a pointed question. Sometimes it's just silently looking a bully in the eye with a look that says, "I know what you're up to." You don't have to overpower the bad actor; you just have to interrupt their performance. Jackson: You just have to step out of the audience and onto the stage, even if it's just for a moment. You choose to play a different role. Olivia: You choose to play the role of someone who cares. And that, Gruenfeld argues, is a power we all have.

Jackson: So after all this—imposter syndrome, playing high and low, Snackman—what's the one thing we should take away from Acting with Power? Olivia: I think it's that power isn't a destination you arrive at, but a constant performance. It's not about having power, but about how you use it in each moment, in each role you play. The book received a lot of praise for this fresh perspective, even if some readers found the acting metaphor a bit abstract. But the core message is transformative. Jackson: And what is that core message, boiled down? Olivia: That the most powerful people aren't the ones who dominate, but the ones who make others feel safe. They use their role, whether it's CEO or friend or parent, to advance the story for everyone, not just for themselves. They understand that their power comes from the fact that others need them, and they honor that by acting with beneficence. Jackson: That’s a much more hopeful and, frankly, more useful definition of power. So what’s the one action we can take away from this? Olivia: The book suggests a simple but profound mental shift. The next time you feel powerless or find yourself in a challenging situation, don't ask, "What should I do?". Ask, "What character would be most useful right now?" Do they need the empathetic listener? The firm decision-maker? The calm, Pringles-eating barrier? Jackson: What character... I love that. It’s not about being fake; it’s about being effective. A question to live by. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.