My wife is about to see if I've been wasting my time
Plus we have an event today!
In a few hours, I’m running a beta session for something I’ve been building for months.
Thirty people signed up to test the new Humor Intelligence Assessment. They’ll be the first to take it, get their personalized reports, and tell me everything that’s broken (because something is always broken).
(If you’re reading this and want to jump in at the last minute, there’s technically still time until it kicks off at 12pm ET. You can register here.)
But I’m a tad more nervous than usual because… Pretzel (my wife) is joining as an attendee.
Not just as a supportive spouse watching from the sidelines but as a full participant. Taking the assessment. Getting her results. Reacting to it all in with a mix of loving acceptance and German skepticism.
She’ll also see if some of the later nights I’ve been pulling have been worth it.
What’s actually happening at noon
So what is this Humor Intelligence Assessment that they’ll be testing? This thing I’ve been hinting at, researching, and occasionally losing sleep over?
The assessment measures your Humor Intelligence, how well you score across the 8 humor competencies we define as your skill of humor.
Each person gets a personalized report showing their strengths, growth areas, and specific recommendations. The whole thing is research-backed and is the next iteration of our work that’s been taken by over 10,000 people.
If you’ve been following me for a while, you know humor isn’t something you have or don’t have. It’s a skill you can develop.
But knowing it and having a framework to actually improve? Those are different things.
Why nerves are probably a good thing
I’ve spent months building this. Reading research papers. Testing questions. Redesigning the report format. Obsessing over whether the competency descriptions actually make sense.
And now thirty people (plus Pretzel) are about to tell me what works and what doesn’t.
Part of me wants everything to be perfect. The other part knows the whole point of a beta launch is because it almost certainly won’t be (perfect). And that’s okay.
But having your wife in the session adds a special layer of accountability. She’s heard me talk about this project at dinner. She’s seen the spreadsheets. She knows how much this matters to me.
She’s also wicked smart. And what happens if the assessment tells her she’s low on Humor Appreciation? Or what if it proves she’s funnier than me?
We’re about to find out…
What happens next
Next Friday, February 20th, I’m launching the full Humor Intelligence Assessment to everyone on this list.
The beta group gets exclusive early access and early adopter pricing. Everyone else gets access next Friday at $27.
I’m not asking you to buy anything today. I’m just bringing you behind the scenes because that’s what this newsletter has always been about... figuring out humor together, including the messy parts.
Today is the messy part. Thirty people testing something that might not work perfectly. Me trying to facilitate a session while my wife watches. All of it recorded so I can cringe at my mistakes later.
But that’s how you build something worth building, right? You test it with real people, you listen to feedback, you make it better.
And then next week, you launch it to the world and hope your wife gives you a good review.
Wish me luck.
Wit regards,
Andrew
P.S. If you want to sneak into today’s beta session, registration is open until 12pm ET. Fair warning: you’ll see the unpolished version, which means you might catch bugs, awkward transitions, and me nervously checking if Pretzel is taking notes.
P.P.S. For everyone else, mark your calendar for next Friday. That’s when the official launch happens and you’ll get your chance to discover your humor intelligence profile. I promise by then we’ll have worked out most of the kinks. Most of them.