How One Humiliating Gig Taught Me the Real Meaning of Resilience

“You’re the worst comedian I’ve ever seen. Get off the ship.” The words bellowed across the cruise ship show lounge. Under the harsh spotlight, I watched 200 faces stare back at me with an expression that fell somewhere between disgust and contempt. This wasn’t just a bad gig. This was a catastrophe I couldn’t escape from.

When a speaking agent got a last-minute request for a cruise comedian with only 48 hours’ notice, I jumped at it. Floating stage, captive audience, international waters – what could go wrong? Everything. I spent those frantic two days writing cruise-specific jokes about tiny cabins and confusing hallways, then planned to deliver my tried and tested social media comedy. The plan worked beautifully on paper. But I never asked: Who is this audience?

The disaster unfolds 

Opening night, I launched into material about Facebook, Twitter, apps, and how technology has changed our lives. Crickets… Blank faces… The silence was deafening. One man glanced at his watch twice during the same punchline. Then those words bellowed from a man in his 80s: “You’re the worst comedian I’ve ever seen. Get off the ship!’ There were two shows that night. The first was a disaster. The second was even worse.

Nowhere to hide 

In a regular comedy club, you can escape out the back. On a cruise ship, you eat every meal with your audience. At the buffet, a British woman yelled: “You’re that awful comedian!” An Aussie man said: “I heard you bombed last night. That’s rough. Don’t sit with us, we don’t want to be seen with you.” One couple asked to join me – allies, I thought. Instead, the husband wanted to catalog every mistake I made: “Your first joke offended everyone.” The joke?

Who’s here because you love travelling?
Who’s here to see new destinations?
And who’s here just to avoid your extended family members?

It’s a safe rule of three in comedy. But to this elderly group, it was deeply unfunny.

So my cabin became my bunker. I made blueberry muffin runs to the cafe, praying I wouldn’t encounter anyone. But I did. Constantly. One man explained: “I’m in my 80s, as are my friends. We don’t use social media and your show didn’t go well.” And when the elevator doors opened, that booming voice returned: “There she is – that disastrous comedian from last night!”

The real lesson 

Stand-up comedy had long been my therapy – a way to take everything that frightened me and turn it into strength and connection. But this cruise was different. This wasn’t material I could work on later. This was happening right now, and I was trapped in it. So I had a choice: let this disaster destroy me, or use my comedy lens to survive. In learning stand-up, I had rewired my brain: the moment something terrible happens, before the panic fully sets in, a small voice whispers, This is going to turn into amazing comedy material.

On that cruise ship, I had to put this to the ultimate test. I had to actively apply this mindset under the worst conditions. Being verbally attacked at a salad station? Getting a performance review from a stranger? Elevator ambushes with finger-pointing? You couldn’t make this stuff up.

It didn’t feel good – at all. It was gruelling and humiliating. But somewhere beneath the mortification, I forced myself to ask: “What’s the gold here? And what’s the lesson?” That slight but mighty shift – from drowning in the disaster to observing it as material – created just enough emotional distance for me to survive it. Comedy was my lifeline. Not because it made the pain disappear, but because it gave me a framework for processing it in real-time and transforming it into something powerful. This was resilience in action. Not theoretical resilience. Not “someday I’ll laugh about this” resilience. This was: “I’m in hell right now, and I need to find a way to not let it break me.” And here’s the important part: this doesn’t just apply to comedy. It applies to every single area of our lives.

Finding freedom 

When we develop the ability to ask “How can I see this differently?” – it gives us space, distance, and wisdom. That cruise taught me you can’t avoid the emotional spectrum of creative life. The fear. The judgement. The disapproval. You must live it fully. And if you don’t allow it to break you, it builds resilience, clarity, and unshakeable belief.

Whenever something goes spectacularly wrong, I ask: “Where’s the comedy in this? Where’s the gold? How can this experience make me stronger?” My comedy lens has become my ultimate superpower – not just on stage, but in every conversation and every moment when life doesn’t go according to plan. Because once you learn to find the gold in your disasters, you become unstoppable.

And that’s not just resilience. That’s pure freedom.

Written by Jordana Borensztajn, author of The Little Book of Influence: 8 Keys to Transformative Communication.