Operation This is 40

Typecasting is the process by which a particular actor becomes strongly identified with a specific character he or she has played. I think most of the actors on the hit show Friends have been forever “typecast” as Ross, Rachel, Chandler, Joey, Monica and Phoebe. It’s not a good thing to be typecast. In fact usually you struggle to find steady work later on.

Well, I worry that I too have been typecast . . . as the goofy guy that everyone likes to laugh at, but no one takes seriously. And like Matt LeBlanc, a.k.a. Joey Tribbiani, I am finding it hard to change that typecast.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be the funny guy. The class clown. The guy with the great one-liners, and funny comments. In high school, I didn’t win any state swimming trophies, and I certainly wasn’t considered for the Dean’s List, but when I was named funniest guy in my English class my senior year I accepted the “award,” which I believe was a king-sized Twix bar, like it WAS the swimming state title. All my hard work and practice had paid off. I was funny, and everyone knew it.

I carried that persona into college, and spent four . . . okay five . . . fine almost six . . . years cracking up my roommates, and a few professors along the way.

Finally graduated and kept right on going. I was the guy who wore a Snoopy tie to a job interview. I was the guy who got a job as a reporter covering the Notre Dame football team, and once stole Lou Holtz’s golf cart because another reporter told me it would be funny . . . actually Coach Holtz didn’t find it funny at all . . . but me and the other reporter did. I was the guy who everyone wanted to sit with at lunch because I cracked them up. I was the guy who always got high marks on yearly evaluations for “office chemistry,” and “for having an upbeat attitude.” And when one of my clients was asked to review me his first comment was “Well everyone likes Clay, he’s hilarious.”

And yet . . . I fear that I may be somewhat one-dimensional. Now this isn’t going to be a blog about “where I’d be if only I hadn’t been so damn funny.” No. Not at all. Frankly, I truly believe I’ve simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time on TWO different occasions, and neither my humor or my hard work was going to save me from getting let go. And I don’t think I’d have my group of friends . . . which is a GREAT group of friends . . . if I had a more serious, less humorous personality. Quite honestly I don’t think I would have gotten my wife to go out in the first place had I not been funny. I think she’d admit that my sense of humor was one of the things that she liked about me.

BUT . . . I’m at paddle match a few weeks ago, and my partner and I win. Later inside the paddle hut I over-hear these two guys talking to a few of their teammates and I hear someone say “I can’t believe you just lost to that goof ball.” Now I know what you’re thinking, maybe that guy was talking about my partner. Nope. My partner that night was a 55-year old guy who plays in a full, down-jacket, and ski cap pulled down to just above his eyes . . . I actually don’t know how he sees the ball. He never smiles or says a word. We have nicknamed him the Unabomber. He frightens me. So trust me, he wasn’t talking about my partner.

And while I didn’t lose a lot of sleep over it . . . frankly it’s not at all the worst thing that’s been said to me during or after a paddle match . . . it did get me thinking . . . if I’m not taken seriously amongst my fellow paddle players, then where could I possibly be taken seriously? Because remember this silly game of paddle is mostly played by a bunch of goofy guys who are giddy just to get away from the wife and kids for a few hours on a Tuesday or Wednesday night. Sure there are some seriously good players, and sure some of them have very “big” jobs, but a lot of beer is consumed and a lot of pizza is eaten during “paddle nights” and I would venture to guess that the main topic of conversation after matches is about past or upcoming trips to Vegas, college basketball, and who’s gotten laid recently. So basically if this group of guys isn’t taking me seriously then I’m in REAL TROUBLE. My reputation has officially preceded me.

Time for a change. “Operation this is 40” has begun. Of course, three years late because it took me awhile to get going.

First thing I do, buy a comfortable pair of khaki pants – must dress in something other than sweats. I assume this is what all 40-year old guys looking to be taken seriously do. I get rid of the loose fit Gap khakis I have had for years and get a nicer looking, more grownup (thought not slimfit) pair of khaki-colored pants from Banana Republic. Problem is they are simply not as comfortable as a pair of sweat pants. Now every time I need to run errands or pick up my kids or head over to the gas station, I am running to my closet to put on khakis. And as soon as I am home again, I am changing back into sweats. Literally I am changing clothes more than a 15-year old girl before Homecoming.

To make matters worse, I sometimes forget to change my top. I have recently been seen around town in khaki pants and a NEON YELLOW Adidas hoodie. And I went to the grocery store last week in khakis and an Adam Graves New York Rangers jersey. Someone in the store actually stopped me and said “Cool Retro Jersey.” Boy, not at all what I was going for. I’m not dressing better. I’m dressing like a clown!

Next I decided to engage in more serious conversations when out with friends. Typically when I get together with friends I tend to talk about sports, and sex, and paddle, and not much else.
So I met up with a friend for breakfast. My goal was to talk about politics or his job or his concerns with our local school district. Something that didn’t involve batting averages, field goal percentages or favorite sex positions. Not more than 15 minutes into it and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I don’t even know what we were talking about but I wanted to say to him “if you stop talking right now I’ll buy your breakfast.” In fact I may have actually said those exact words OUT LOUD because shortly thereafter he had to go.

I also decided to tone the humor down in some of my emails. As you can probably imagine most of the emails I exchange with people are less than serious. I am ALWAYS trying to inject a little humor into an email. So last week I sent an email out to my paddle team about Sunday practice. But this time there were no silly quotes, or over-the-top analogies, or funny stories. Just a when and where practice was going to be. Sunday morning rolled around and two guys didn’t even show up. When I got home I contacted both of the guys, and asked them why they didn’t show. Their response . . . didn’t even read the email. Basically they glanced over it, didn’t laugh, and deleted it. Even when I try to be serious it doesn’t work out.

Maybe “Operation this is 40” is pointless and silly. Maybe being the funny guy is alright. Maybe being known as the guy who plunges his floor drain when it leaks or throws footballs at a bee hive when he’s trying to knock it off his roof isn’t such a bad thing.

Okay, so yeah I’m sitting in sweatpants and a hoodie right now as I write this blog. And sure, maybe I’m currently going back and forth between writing this blog and building my Clash of Clans village, which I brag about to my fellow clan members (and I am well aware that that didn’t necessarily sound good) most of whom are 12-year-old boys (and yes, I am ALSO aware that that TOO didn’t necessarily sound good), but so what?

Fine, I just turned 43, and I will admit that there’s a little voice in my ear whispering “grow up, it’s time, you’re not 20 anymore, start acting your age, and for the love of God stop using the word ‘dude’.” But maybe I’ll just ignore it. Then again this is the same little voice that has said “stop taking Viagra, your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you twice in one night . . . hell, she barely wants to have sex with you at all . . . you’re an idiot . . . put the little blue pill down,” so maybe ignoring it completely isn’t smart.

So Matt LeBlanc will always be known as Joey, and maybe I’ll always be known as the class clown.
But my wife chose the funny guy, and my friends chose the funny guy, so maybe I’ll just try to be the funny guy who dresses a little better. My wife says next stop is Neiman’s.