Carlo spun his favorite pen around his index and middle finger, the momentum forcing the rocket ship that floated inside the top portion of the pen to rocket back and forth precariously to the pen’s outer reaches.
By all accounts, the form in front of Carlo was simple. It had only four questions
Name: Carlo De Marco. Answered in a mixture of cursive and capital letters.
Social Security Number: A list of numbers that Carlo thought were close enough to his social. He deemed it not worth the time to pull out his official card and confirm.
Outcome of last year’s resolution with a note to include any available documentation: Successful average of 1 per month with a note that no documentation was available. His standard answer.
Requested new year resolution: ….
….
….
…
It was the longest into the year that Carlo had ever waited. Usually he wrote down a resolution that was incredibly easy to accomplish so he could knock it out of the park by the end of January.
He’d received his form at the annual school assembly, where the students were all reminded of the proper way to write a resolution. A resolution should be written as an initiative, tracked with specific timebound milestones, or a SMART measure, tracked by a frequency or percentage change.
Carlo’s measure from the previous year had been near perfection. He stated that he would organize the socks in his drawer an average of once per month.
But that was last year’s resolution. This year’s resolution could have been as simply, but in reality, the annual assembly is where it had gone all wrong.
Carlo’s eyes jumped to the bottom of the form again. The mandatory language that appeared on every form. Typically, Carlo ignored it as government double speak, but this year, he couldn’t stop reading it… over and over again.
“Failure to post-mark new year’s resolution by midnight on December 31 of the previous year will result in a temporary revocation of all rights, including but not limited to: housing privileges, food privileges, entertainment credits, and all state issued licenses and registrations, including but not limited to: voter’s registration, property registration, driver’s license, real estate license, and movie reward’s licenses. Individuals found delinquent on the above will have 30 days to submit all necessary documentation along with a $100 fine before all revocations become permanent until the next year’s new year’s resolution census.”
Government double speak for: submit this one-page form that no one will bother reading, or your life will suck.
The problem was, at the school assembly, Carlo had learned a very terrifying truth. Approval on all resolutions was required from the government, but Carlo had assumed it was a rubber stamp. Instead, he learned the government did read the forms. Well, not every form, but approximately .000187% of the forms.
Statistically, it was more likely that Carlo would lose his left foot from a shark attack, but Carlo never swam in salt water, so the odds of getting picked out randomly from the pile of applicants terrified him. Any discrepancy found in your resolution could result in a 5 year audit of all your resolutions, wherein fraud could result in up to ten year imprisonment.
Carlo knew that his past five years of resolutions could not hold up to heavy scrutiny.
Age 10 Measure: “Eat healthier than in previous years. Target: 1 fewer package of Oreos”
Age 11 Initiative: “Learn a new language. Milestone 1: Invent 1 word language by July. Milestone 2: Learn it by December.”
Age 12 Measure: “Maintain current height: Target: Within 2 yards of December 31 size.”
Age 13 Initiative: “Eat food. Target: At least 90% of all days.”
And, of course, the infamous Age 14 sock measure, which he met by rearranging his socks 12 times within a single half hour window while watching Ninja Warrior to meet his entire quota for the year.
The Internal Resolution Service looked at the overall impact of your resolution coupled with whether you achieved the results. Carlo knew that if this year’s resolution wasn’t iron clad, even a casual glance would clearly demonstrate how lame each of his previous resolutions had been.
At the assembly, his principal had provided a list of sample resolutions for any one stuck on a good resolution for the next year, ideas ranging from weight loss to learning to ride a bicycle. However, Carlo had no self-control when it came to food, see his Age 10 new year’s resolution, and he could ride a bike since the age of 6, a skill he regretted now.
Besides, using one of the school suggestions wouldn’t necessarily get him off to the Internal Resolution Service’s radar. If anything, using a sample prompt screamed of someone that wasn’t taking this exercise in civil duty seriously.
For the betterment of society, everyone must have a resolution that pushes them to create a better version of themselves, and by creating a better version of themselves, a better society.
The sound of glasses chiming brought Carlo back to reality. He glanced at the clock. 11:45PM.
He was nearly out of time. Even now, he would have to scan and submit his application via email to avoid the penalty as no post office was open at this hour. Besides, the sooner he finished his application, the sooner he could join the party. Fireworks and finely chilled sparkling grape juice awaited him.
He needed a resolution, and he needed it now. It needed to be important, impactful, and something that would keep the Internal Resolution Service off his back on the off chance they picked his application for review. Something it would be impossible to claim he hadn’t achieved the targeted results.
Finally, a thought occurred to him that was so genius he almost doubted whether he should write it down. It was the type of measure that would protect all of his previous resolutions from scrutiny and gain him four more years of easy resolutions. If they couldn’t prove he had failed at it, they couldn’t bring his other resolutions under scrutiny.
There wasn’t any time to second guess himself. He spun his pen one more time and jotted down the words for his resolution.
A quick scan and click of his mouse later, he heard the satisfying sound of an email delivered.
He ran downstairs to see his Uncle Marcus standing on the couch screaming the count down.
“10…
9…
8…
7…
6…
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…”
Everyone screamed “Happy New Year,” and Carlo’s mom gave him a big hug. Carlo’s dad appeared carrying a heaping glass of sparkling grape juice. The new year had arrived!
As the party wound down and the guests started to head home, Carlo helped his mother clean up. As they filled up what looked to be the last trash bag, Carlo’s mom finally asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind.
“What did you finally decide on for your resolution?” she asked, knowing well how much trouble Carlo had deciding.
“Simple. I picked a measure,” he said.
“Oh? Do tell,” said his mom.
Carlo smiled.
“Improve government’s positive impact. Target: 1%”
