New Year New...sletter

goals, jobs, and pasta alla gricia

“Do you…uh…have any goals for the new year?” I regretted the words as soon as they left my face. What kind of man asks someone he’s not in a romantic relationship with what his goals are? Maybe that should one of my goals for the new year: Don’t be insufferable. I wanted to punch myself.

I’d been in a conversational rut with Yael, a doorman in my building, for a while now. He works the 11pm-7am shift, so I see him almost every morning when I take Bailey out for her morning “dub.” Our meetings occur at the beginning of my day and the end of his and neither of us have talked to anyone all night, so at 5am, we’re both a little conversationally rusty. We mostly talk about the weather. He tells me about the current conditions on my way out—“it’s gonna be a hot one, Mr. Anthony” and then I ask about the future conditions on the way in—“is it gonna rain this week, Yael?” Real heady stuff. We both always hope for snow, which has left us unfulfilled the past few years.

Sometimes we talk about movies, though by we talk I mean he tells me about upcoming Marvel movies. Normally Marvel releases a dozen movies a year, but lately their well has been dry, causing our conversations to feel the same.

This particular morning, bleary eyed but refreshed from having just taken Pom out—“it’s cold out there, Mr. Anthony!”—I grasped at straws for something novel to say and blurted out the regrettable question about goals.

“Nothing in particular, Mr. Anthony.” I know it’s meant as a sign of respect, but it weirds me out a little when he calls me Mr. Anthony. When I was a kid I always referred to my friends’ parents as Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so, where so-and-so was their last name. The Mr-plus-first-name greeting makes me feel like we’re both on a plantation but only one of us owns it. “What about you and Miss Lauren?”

“You know, (Miss) Lauren and I haven’t done our annual planning summit yet, so I have no idea what the new year will hold for us.” What kind of jerk says “annual planning summit?” I wanted to punch myself again.

Back when I had a regular job I worked for companies that had annual planning summits. For the hipper companies, this involved a getaway to a fun location for the weekend. For the lamer ones it was break room bagels and coffee from a box from 11 to 11:30. The cool companies invited all us recruiters from around the country to the founder’s chalet in the mountains east of Seattle, where we’d luge down a homemade track in the snow, comparing scores with a giant red timer powered by a car battery. We’d have rah rah sessions where we’d set crazy goals and compete in crazier challenges like who could chug the most raw eggs. [I won with 5.] The uncool companies invited people from around the world to join a con-call during their lunch hour. They called it a “lunch and learn,” but the only thing I learned was “I don’t want to work here.”

Regardless of the coolness factor, the outcome was the same: get together, set goals, then completely forget about them until the end of the year.

And to a certain extent, I’ve treated my last few annual goal summits the same way. Wiff, Pom, and I would drive to someplace fun, set our goals, chug raw eggs [despite her size, Bailey always wins], and then forget about them until the same time next year. Well, at least I forget about them. Wiff’s pretty good at remembering hers and Bailey constantly tells us she needs m0Re BeEFs to hit her annual goal.

As I stood there wondering if I’d really said “annual planning summit” to another human being [I had], I resolved to do a better job at checking in on my goals this year.

An hour later, Miss Lauren and I stared at each other over steaming coffee mugs. “You wanna do our goal…thing soon?” I asked. I couldn’t bring myself to say summit. I shivered at the memory.

“Hudson?” she said with a smile, referring to our favorite getaway location.

A few hours later, we were sitting at a different table in a different town, working on goals for a different year.

I’ll talk about the new goals and will review the old ones in the next newsletter, but for now, here’s a video I made of last year’s review. I forgot to post it, so…it was probably one of my goals.

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Upcoming Shows

• January 13 - New York, NY - Liberty

• January 16 - New York, NY - Gotham Comedy Club

• January 18 - La Grange, IL - The Elm

• January 20, 2024 - Corporate

• January 27 - New York, NY - Liberty

• January 29 - New York, NY - Gotham Comedy Club

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What I’m Eating

Pasta alla Gricia. A few months ago my parents came back from Italy. When I called my dad for the debrief, he told me he’d had pasta alla gricia, and that it was his new favorite. So I set out to learn how to make it. And now it’s my and Wiff’s [and Bailey’s] favorite too. Recipe here.

This is not my best photography work, but it’ll have to do until I make this again, probably within the next few hours…

For you ASMR weirdos out there, this is a short video of me frying the guanciale.

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Candid Creatives Podcast

Last week was Christmas, so we took the day off from recording. But fear not, the podcast will continue into 2024! If you’re not all caught up, you can listen to the latest episode here and watch the latest here.

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Proof of Life

Wiff and me in Hudson.

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Chow!

Anthony