KEY POINTS:
Inspired by the movie, Cliff Taylor agreed to be a Yes Man for a week. That's the last time he'll be saying "yes" to this editor's requests.
It was all going fine - up until the marriage proposal.
The brief was simple enough; just say Yes - to everything. Be the Yes Man for a few days.
Yes man ... it has unpleasant connotations. Think "toady" or "sycophant".
But for Danny Wallace, the British comedian who wrote the book of the same name, saying yes was about positivity, about a different approach to life. About not saying no - to anything.
His adventures inspired this month's new Jim Carrey movie, Yes Man, also starring New Zealander Rhys Darby. Who better than the hyperactive Carrey to embrace all the comic possibilities of endless affirmative action. Learn Korean? Sure. Bungy jump? Yeah. Snort chilli sauce? Yes, man.
Or, to quote the yes man of the moment, Barack Obama: "Yes we can!"
Wallace, who presented 2007's Castaway series filmed on Great Barrier Island, realised he was closing himself off from the world, turning down invitations and dreaming up any excuse to avoid leaving the house. After a chance meeting with a stranger who told him to "say yes more", Wallace embarked on a year-long journey of self-discovery, saying yes to the world. He won several thousand pounds on a scratch card, and lost it again, he was compelled to accept a date with his ex-girlfriend and her new partner.
And he had to think fast when asked the question: "Are you looking for a smack in the mouth?"
Both Wallace and Carrey's characters were men who needed to change, whose lives had wandered into cul-de-sacs. In short, they needed to get out more.
But not me. I'd done that bungy jump - with a heavy metal soundtrack, into a coal black canyon, at night. I'd learned the foreign language and forgotten it again. I'd worn a dress on Barcelona's streets. I'd ridden a motorbike around India. I'd accompanied two dodgy Moroccan blokes on a tour of the back streets of Tangier, and been mugged for my trouble.
I had no trouble with saying yes.
"Are you coming to these drinks?"
"No thanks." I was out the door already, thinking of home, formulating my excuse, as my work colleagues headed off on the town. I did a double-take of cartoonish proportions. "I mean ... yeah. Okay. Yes."
It didn't change my life, just the trajectory of my evening. On the way home I stopped for Subway. "Toasted?" Yes please. "Cheese?" Yes. "Tuna?" Yes. "Ham?" Sure. "Pickles?" Okay. "Olives?" Why not. "Gherkins?" Uh huh. "Avocado?" Bring it on. Her hand wandered towards the Thai chilli sauce. "Yes, I'll have some of that."
A young Sikh trainee on the till muttered something. Pardon? He repeated it. Nope, didn't get that. He may have been asking if I wanted a drink to go with my bizarre sandwich. First rule of Yes Club, if you can't understand the question you don't have to answer.
Second rule, avoid eye contact. I learned that one the next morning, running the gauntlet of a gang of charity collectors dressed as animals. The first one caught me just outside Britomart train station, a large rodent of some kind, shaking its tin at me.
"Yes, okay, hold on ..." I dug around for spare change. A little further up the street a panda (or was it a Dalmatian) hit me up for more change. From then on, until reaching the safety of the office, I stared hard at the ground. Saying yes can get very expensive.
It's also easier said than done. "Do you want cash back?" No, thanks. I mean yes. "Do you want your receipt?" No. Sorry, can I have it back? "It's in the bin." Sorry. "Do you want a bag with that?" What, this apple? I don't ... oh, go on then. I'll add it to the hundred I have at home. "Have a nice day." Yes, I'll make sure of it.
I invited a friend to a movie. She said yes. Then, she asked me to pick her up. But that's mad, I explained in an email. If I have to get the train home, pick up my car, get to yours, then battle through rush-hour traffic to Newmarket ... we'll never make it. Immediately after pressing "Send" I realised my mistake. I quickly emailed her back. "I'll pick you up at 5.40."
There is something uncomfortable about relinquishing your own better judgment and freedom of choice. But, so be it, I thought. We'll miss the first 15 minutes of the film and it'll be all her fault. If I'd had my way ...
The traffic parted like the Red Sea and we found a parking space practically opposite the cinema. We arrived early. It was like a Christmas miracle. "Oh, ye of little faith," she chided.
Driving home after the movie, she mentioned dinner. "Yes!" I cried. "Gina's?" Yes. "Are you okay?" Yes.
"We're full," they said. "A half-hour wait. Would you like to wait?" Yes. "Drink?" Yes, please. I was Mr Agreeable.
I let her order. Keeping my eyes averted as the waiter reeled off the various specials. Fortunately, the place was rammed and the waiter was not overkeen to offer us extra courses. Being a Yes Man was not just expensive, it could be financially ruinous.
