Who gets applause before doing anything? “No one,” we might say at first. But if we think about it a bit more, we might answer that almost no one does. An orchestra receives applause as soon as it steps onto the stage. The audience claps for the performers even before they start playing. Then the conductor arrives, and the applause intensifies. The entire hall applauds at a classical music concert, at the Opera, when the conductor and their orchestra appear.
Ah, I almost forgot: Mourinho received applause before his first match as the coach of Fenerbahçe. But that’s an exception; generally, a coach receives applause only after the match, if their team wins.
What if, when we arrive at the office, those already there would applaud us? It might seem odd, especially for most of us who grew up without much positive feedback, without many words of encouragement, raised more in the style of “you’re not good enough,” “don’t put yourself forward,” “let others praise you.”
At one of the concerts I attended recently at the Athenaeum, I overheard several people saying just before it started, “It’s going to be a treat tonight, enjoy!” And it truly was!
You know how it is at a concert: when there’s a short pause between movements of a symphony, almost everyone in the hall coughs, sneezes, shuffles about, as if they’ve all been holding it in until that moment, and now they have a brief chance to let it all out. I understand what it’s like to want to cough and be unable to hold back; it’s often beyond your control, so I admire those who manage. Sneezing is even worse. I sneeze a lot, a few minutes each day. Many years ago, at a theater, I had a sneezing fit. I was sitting in the middle of a row to get a good view. It was a Chekhov play, with great silence in the hall—only the actor’s voice could be heard as he delivered a monologue. When my sneezing started, the actor, visibly annoyed, paused and said something that made me not only leave my seat but exit the theater entirely. Since then, I make an effort to only buy tickets at the end of a row. So, respect to those who can hold back!
During one of the breaks between the movements of the recent concert, the conductor waited for everyone to finish rustling, clearing their throats, and then he prepared to begin. He raised the baton, and then a timid cough was heard—someone had forgotten to cough earlier. The conductor stopped, turned… but he was gracious; he said nothing and continued conducting when there was absolute silence. A silence like in Ion Heliade Rădulescu’s poem:
“Silence is everything and a stillness complete: An enchantment or a spell has descended on the world; Not a leaf stirs, not even the wind breathes, And the waters sleep, the mills have ceased.”
Now that’s respect for others! In fact, it’s respect for the performers, but it’s also respect for the music itself!
Such places are like islands where principles such as respect, appreciation, generosity, competence, virtuosity, and decency still manifest. What if we let ourselves be inspired by them and brought these principles into other environments as well?