What does Tim Gabrielson speak about?

Tim Gabrielson speaks about attention — how where a team places its focus shapes leadership, communication, and workplace culture. His signature keynote, Look for the Good, gives teams a simple, transferable way to interrupt emotional carryover and reset the moment before negativity spreads.

Is Tim Gabrielson a funny keynote speaker or a motivational one?

Both. Tim is a former Las Vegas headliner and comedy magician with 35+ years of stage experience, so the humor is genuine. But the keynote delivers a real behavioral takeaway, not just inspiration. He is corporate-safe entertainment that creates lasting change.

What kind of events does Tim Gabrielson speak at?

Leadership meetings, corporate conferences, association events, healthcare and franchise gatherings, and team celebrations. He offers a keynote (Look for the Good), a Las Vegas-style comedy show (Keep It Funny), and a breakout workshop (G.A.B.E.).

What makes Tim Gabrielson different from other motivational speakers?

Most speakers either entertain or teach. Tim does both at a headliner level. His magic and comedy hold the room while the message lands, so teams actually remember and use the takeaway — they reference it in real meetings and conversations after the event.

How do you book Tim Gabrielson for a corporate event?

Booking inquiries can be submitted through timgabrielson.com, where Tim's team responds to start the conversation, answer questions, and confirm fit for the audience and event.

2 Tired Guys in a Hallway: The Story Behind the G.A.B.E Framework

There's one photo on my phone I keep coming back to.

I've opened it more times than I'd care to admit.

And it's not a good picture. Just two tired guys in a hotel hallway.

One of them is me. The other one is my dad.

He's been gone since 2018.

And to be honest...

I almost didn't have this picture at all.

Not because anything dramatic happened. For the plainest reason there is.

I just didn't take many pictures with my dad.

You always figure there's more time for that. More trips. More ordinary Tuesdays.

And then the later runs out. You go looking for the pictures, and they're just not there.

If you've lost someone, you already know the feeling.

It's a strange kind of ache. A low weight you carry around, a little pile of I-should-haves.

So this one picture is one of the few I've got. And I only have it because I happened to grab it.

Let me tell you about the man in it.

His name was Dave. Everybody called him Gabe.

He spent his whole life on a farm. Never wrote a book. Never once called anything he did "leadership."

But he was one of those people who could walk into a room and change the temperature of it. He had a way of making you feel like you were the reason he showed up.

You know the type. You've met one, if you're lucky. The person who makes you stand a little taller just because they're glad to see you.

That was my dad.

The Only Road Trip My Dad Ever Took With Me

Now, he did something he had never once done in all my years of doing this.

He came on the road with me.

I had three shows in Wisconsin. Three days straight. Hours of driving between each one.

We loaded up the truck with all my gear and the two of us, and we drove.

He helped me set up every show. He helped me tear it all down. We crashed in hotels along the way, got up the next morning, and did it again.

I wish I could tell you everything we talked about in that truck. Truth is, I don't remember most of it. Just that it was easy. Hours of nothing-in-particular with my dad in the passenger seat. I'd give a lot to have those drives back.

And every night, he sat in the back of the room and watched his son do the thing he loves.

Three corporate shows. All three went really well.

There's something that happens when your parent watches you be good at something. You can be a grown adult. Doesn't matter. Some part of you is still eight years old, glancing over to see if they're watching.

He was watching. And I know he was proud, because he told me.

He usually did.

Right before the last show, as we were walking out of the hotel room, I snagged a quick selfie of the two of us.

No real reason. I just did.

We both look wiped out, because we were. It doesn't look like much.

But that's the picture.

Nobody Tells You Which Time Is the Last

That trip was the only time he ever came on the road with me.

And that quick selfie, the one I almost didn't bother taking, is now one of the most valuable things I own.

I had no idea that was the only trip. I mean you never do.

Nobody tells you which time is going to be the last one. The last road trip. The last time somebody looks at you and says they're proud of you.

You only find that out later, looking back.

So let me say the thing I wish somebody had grabbed me by the collar and told me back then.

If you've been meaning to make the trip, make it.

If there's a picture you keep meaning to take, take it.

And that person who taught you how to show up? The one who makes you stand a little taller? Go tell them what they did for you.

Not someday. Not when things slow down.

Because the "later" you're counting on runs out faster than you think.

Why I Named the G.A.B.E. Framework After My Dad

There's a footnote to all this.

The framework I teach companies now, the one that ends up on their slides and in their notebooks, is called G.A.B.E.

I named it after him. Gabe.

He was gone before any of this really took off.

But every time a room full of leaders learns how to show up better for their people, they're carrying a little piece of a farmer named Dave. Whether they know it or not.

He taught me how to show up. He just never called it that.

So that's the one thing I've got for you today.

Go take the picture.

And go tell your Gabe.

While you still can.

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