Every year, as the calendar flips to January, most of us dust off the same tired New Year’s resolutions: lose weight, save money, and maybe finally finish that novel we’re always talking about. Within weeks, these resolutions usually meet the same fate—quietly abandoned under a pile of crisps and good intentions. But what if, instead of resolving to be better, we imagined ourselves at the end of the line, looking back with a mix of pride, peace, and perhaps a touch of gallows humour?
This is precisely the idea that billionaire entrepreneur Ron Shaich, profiled in a Wall Street Journal article by the ever-insightful Ben Cohen, champions with his annual ritual of writing a “premortem.”
Think of it as a New Year’s resolution on steroids—or maybe a slightly morbid turbo boost. Instead of asking, What do I want to do this year?, Shaich asks, What will I respect myself for doing when I’m old and grey, perched at death’s door?
Before we get too sombre, let me assure you that this idea is far from morbid. In fact, it’s oddly inspiring—and surprisingly ripe for humour.
Deathbed Deduction: Lessons in Lighthearted Planning
When my friend David Grover sent me Cohen’s article, it was in response to my recent New Year blog. Along with the article, he included a thoughtful note:
“Thanks for this inspiring message, Paul. I read this article in the WSJ and thought of your blog—especially point 2! All the best for 2025!”
Point 2? That nugget about living with intention and imagining your future self? Absolutely. It seems David not only resonated with the blog’s message but also knew I’d find the premise of the article rich with comedic potential. After all, picturing myself on my deathbed, wondering whether I spent enough time enjoying life and eating biscuits, feels both profound and absurd.
Shaich’s approach combines deep self-reflection with something we all need a little more of: perspective. He asks himself how he can live intentionally, ensuring that his “deathbed Ron” won’t be shaking a frail fist in regret—and it’s a lesson we can all take to heart.
The Premortem’s Secret Weapon: Humour
Here’s the thing: imagining your deathbed can sound grim. But humour turns it into a game of life’s highlights reel. A premortem isn’t just about ticking off achievements—it’s about the laughs, the connections, and the stories you’ll want to tell (or have told about you).
Shaich, for instance, sets goals like learning Hebrew, running a 10k, or mastering chess. These are noble aspirations. My version might include finally cracking the mystery of IKEA instructions or getting my cat to fetch a beer from the fridge.
Humour reminds us that life’s true joy lies in the ridiculous moments—the shared laughs and the absurd victories that, looking back, make it all worthwhile.
A Humourology Premortem: Three Steps
- Picture Your Future Self
Imagine yourself at the pearly gates (or wherever you’d like your finale to unfold). Are you chuckling about the risks you took or lamenting the jokes you didn’t make? - Set Playful Priorities
Not every goal has to be about legacy. Maybe this year, promise to laugh so hard you cry at least once a month or try karaoke in a language you don’t speak. - Check in Quarterly (With a Smile)
Like Shaich, review your goals regularly. But don’t forget to ask: Have I made anyone laugh today? Have I shared a pint with a friend?
As we gently immerse ourselves in 2025, I encourage you to try a premortem of your own. If nothing else, it’s a fantastic conversation starter over dinner. And if you’re ever stuck, just remember this: the key to a great life is to live as if every day is your closing act—full of laughter, love, and perhaps one or two spectacular pratfalls.
Here’s to an intentional (and highly amusing) 2025!
