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At 3:30 a.m., I woke up and realized my husband wasn’t home yet. I knew exactly what that meant: he’d made it into the SNL 50 after-party.
I rolled over, smiled, and went back to sleep. He’d earned it.
For the past six months, our family has had the unusual and incredibly fortunate privilege of getting a little bit of exposure to Saturday Night Live in our lives. My husband, Jason, has been working with their on-site audio team throughout the fall, in a gig which culminated in this week’s festivities celebrating the 50th anniversary of the show.
And when I say "festivities," that’s an understatement. On Friday night, he mixed the sound for Cher, Miley Cyrus, and the Backstreet Boys at Radio City Music Hall for 5,000 people. Then, last night, he was in the room with some of the funniest people on Earth at the live taping of SNL’s milestone episode. Absolutely wild.
I’ll admit, I didn’t fully appreciate SNL’s cultural impact when Jason first got the gig. I never stayed up late for it as a kid, and I didn’t seek out sketches on my own. But this season, I’ve been paying attention. And somewhere along the way, I’ve gone from indifferent skeptic to backseat critic to fully invested fan.
I love learning from the sidelines—observing different industries, picking up patterns, and noticing what makes things tick. And SNL has seeped into my day-to-day thinking in ways I didn’t expect.
So here are a few leadership lessons I’ve taken away, even as a mere NPC (“non-player character”) in the SNL universe.
Spending this season on the sidelines of SNL, I started noticing patterns—big, structural choices that have kept the show relevant for 50 years. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized these same lessons apply far beyond late-night TV.
Here are some of the most intriguing design decisions I’ve noticed (and how they might impact businesses in other contexts).
This was the theme that was perhaps the last obvious to me coming into SNL this season as a relative newbie. At its core, SNL isn’t about making its salaried cast shine—it’s about building a pop-up production that elevates a new wildcard each week. This injection of fresh energy keeps things dynamic, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how this concept applies to business-building.
I wonder: What would it look like to spotlight drop-in talent in other business contexts? Could companies create their own version of a rotating stage, designing space for fresh perspectives to shape the work?
I was lucky enough to attend the SNL Homecoming Concert on Friday night. I knew that all of the famous people in comedy would be in attendance (not to mention a star-studded lineup of performers), But what I didn’t fully appreciate was that every seat in that concert hall was filled by someone with a personal connection to the show. I sat next to a former writer turned tech content writer. I chit-chatted with one of Lorne’s earliest assistants, who got the job through a friend in college, who was the daughter of the agent of one of the cast members. SNL’s network runs deep. That kind of legacy doesn’t happen by accident.
I wonder: What if more companies invested in homecomings and alumni gatherings? People moving on from jobs is inevitable—but what if the real opportunity lies in keeping them in orbit? How might organizations design spaces that turn former employees into lifelong advocates?
It’s easy to forget that SNL itself was once a risky startup. When it launched in 1975, only 57% of households even had a TV. The idea of late-night, unscripted, live comedy? A total flier. But that willingness to take the leap early is what made it an institution. Over the years, SNL has done their best to retain some of the frantic energy of creating things fresh (which, by the way, have similar vibes from some of those tech company handbooks we were reading earlier this week). But it’s easier said than done.
I wonder: What can we learn from the high-stakes decisions made in SNL’s earliest days and apply to today’s macro environment? What’s the risky, unconventional thing now that might become an institution decades from today?
Hindsight makes it obvious, but in the moment, choosing which up-and-coming comedian to put on stage? That’s the hard part. For decades, SNL has been a proving ground, giving unknowns their first shot and shaping pop culture in real time. I don’t know the exact formula for how these choices get made, but I respect the intentionality behind it. The decision to constantly rotate talent—week after week, year after year—creates a built-in mechanism for staying relevant. That kind of dynamic adaptability isn’t just about entertainment; it’s a model for long-term resiliency.
I wonder: What organizational design decisions can we make today that ensure that we’re building businesses that are attuned to cultural shifts and ready to evolve with them? How might more individuals, teams, and organizations adopt a “portfolio approach” to decision-making?
To become a classic, you have to commit. SNL’s secret isn’t just reinvention—it’s consistency. The host’s monologue, Weekend Update, callback characters—these are the anchors that make the show unmistakable. Sticking with the formula may seem like the safer choice, but in the long run, it’s what makes the brand’s model so defensible that it has become untouchable.
I wonder: What are the untouchables in your brand or your business? How will you protect those things over time? And how (if ever) will you know when it’s time to let go?
This isn’t to say that SNL is all sunshine and roses. Frankly, I also have quite a few notes on how to consider incorporating more modern elements into the “cultural ish” that they are offering. And yet. I get why they don’t want to change anything. At least not right now.
Personally, SNL has thrown any sense of equilibrium in our family out the window. It took an already tricky Broadway show schedule and dialed up both the intensity and the inflexibility. The show’s relentless, around-the-clock pace isn’t exactly breaking news—but what is less talked about is what it’s like to be the “other parent” when your partner is working gruelingly late nights, four days a week (plus a weekend shift), week after week after week.
And yet, in a way, I owe a lot to SNL. The pressure of feeling like a solo parent for weeks on end pushed me to invent my own solution—to figure out how to navigate long Saturdays with two kids. We needed to get out of the house. I wanted to break free from the playground circuit. So we started hitting up museums with extreme regularity. And, well… you know what happened next.
Like everyone, I’ll be watching from the sidelines to see what SNL does in season 51 and beyond. But more than that, I’ll be thinking about the lessons it leaves behind—about reinvention, resilience, and the power of a well-timed risk.
