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Gulman begins with a straightforward description of what the audience at New Yorks Beacon Theatre is about to see.
I want to tell you a story of my meltdown at Trader Joes, he says.
Healthy laughs and a couple loud woos at the eight-second mark indicate they are very much onboard.
He proceeds to praise Trader Joes egalitarian workplace to overwhelming audience approval.
So why the meltdown?
Its his second ovation in under a minute, but Gulman does not stop to milk it.
He talks through their clapping as if the injustice hes relating were too egregious to pause for accolades.
I filled it and prepared myself for a showdown, he says.
By the one-minute mark, he has already earned two applause breaks and set up the storys central conflict.
Four of the basic questions of journalism who, what, where, and why have all been answered.
The audience is locked in and ready for the payoff sure to come when Gulman explains the how.
Next, Gulman assures the audience of the villainy of his antagonist.
At 1:31, Gulman puts this frustration into words.
The audacity, he exclaims.
Nay, the temerity!
Using them anyway is what separates the true comedy greats from the adequate horde.
The message is clear: Envy him not.
Gulman earns his next ovation at 1:39 with the offenders first words upon her return: Yeah, no.
Gulman earns more applause at 2:34.
He imitates a Trader Joes shopper going Herewe go!
as the chaos ensues.
By now, hes trained the audience to applaud in sporadic bursts so they dont miss a line.
Hes not stopping the storys momentum for anything.
Ring the bell, Ive been struck!
The audience is both happy that justice was served and with the absurd way Gulmans victory came about.
The Beacon audience knows they have witnessed something special a passionate and thoughtful performance of a meticulously crafted piece.
There is an unfortunate yet persistent cultural bias against stand-up comedy as lowbrow tavern entertainment.
