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Who am I? I’m Shem Opolot, a health professional turned content creator, passionate about helping people be their best selves in life and work.
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Hi! I'm Shem Opolot, and this is The Friday Fix, my weekly newsletter. If you've received it, you’re either subscribed or someone forwarded it to you. If you fit into the latter (yes, I’m the kind of person who uses words like “latter”) camp and want to subscribe, then click on the shiny button below:
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HAPPY FRIDAY 🎉 There are multiple benefits to being here. Sometimes you learn something, sometimes you find a gem, sometimes your life changes.
There are two opportunities I’d like to recommend people for, but I need strong candidates. The first one is a range of fellowships, and the second one is a fully-funded graduate program at Baylor University. If you think you (or someone you know) are a good fit for either of these opportunities, reply to this email and let me know. I anticipate I’ll be inundated with responses, so please—if you feel pained to do so—don’t waste my time, or the time of those who really need this.
Some day, I hope to write about how one of these opportunities changed your life.
TOGETHER WITH SUPERHUMAN AI
200+ Claude Prompts Top Professionals Actually Use at Work
Claude can be your analyst, editor, and strategist.
But most professionals are using it to fix grammar.
These 200+ Claude prompts take it from grammar tool to your most powerful AI work assistant.
Sign up for Superhuman AI and get:
200+ ready-to-use Claude prompts to get real work done in minutes — researched, tested, and used by professionals at Google, Microsoft, and NASA
Superhuman AI newsletter (4 min daily) so you keep learning new AI tools and skills to stay ahead in your career — the prompts are just the beginning
LIFE
Potty party
I badly needed to pee.
The bar was a football embassy, intentionally borrowing the aesthetic of a European pub, draped in flags, covered in paraphernalia, and flaunting fanaticism. But because it was a bar in the U.S., it borrowed—with no possibility of return—American excess. It was big enough to host both fan factions, separated by a wall, with a door for access to the restrooms and a 180-degree counter for orders. Access was restricted, except to find release or spend money. Again—very American.
I stood in a short line for the restrooms in a narrow corridor. There were only two gender-neutral options. A man skipped the line and stood beside the two people at the front. He lingered slightly out of the line with his back against the wall.
Wait.
I said the line was short, but that’s not true. Urgency determines the length of restroom lines, not headcount. I was third in line, but I might as well have been at the end of a line that spilled out the door and wrapped around the block. For the man who skipped the line, I imagine the situation was more dire. His drunkenness didn’t help.
With alcohol eyes, he stared at the locked doors, then at the line, then back at doors, as if he knew something we didn’t. We all watched him through the corners of our eyes but labored not to make eye contact. You just never know.
Occasionally, he wandered into tributaries off the corridor, those areas clearly labeled “Staff Only,” searching for a receptacle for the release he desperately needed.
He looked around, carelessly tugging at his crotch intermittently, but didn’t yield. I can’t think of anything more human. We are different from animals because we can defy our desires and nature.
He returned to hover at the front of the line. I was second in line. He glanced in the direction of the line again and tugged on one of the door handles.
The door on the right opened. He thought about it, took a false step forward and almost fell. In that brief delay, the guy ahead of me went in.
I, potty-dancing on the spot, turned around to look at the guys behind me. Our glints greeted each other with mutual recognition and acknowledgement. I smiled and turned back around, still potty-dancing.
The door on the right opened again. I had no idea what the other person in the left restroom was going through, but I wished they’d just stop it. I looked at him. He looked at me. I almost let him go ahead of me; his desperation was now tangible. It was another person in line between us. But I thought about the guys behind me.
I entered the restroom.
I rushed through the handwashing. I barely used the hand dryer, which was louder than microwave beeps in the middle of the night. I assumed the desperate people outside judged me for being overindulgent in a crisis. I left some water in the creases of my hands. I usually grab a tissue to pull on the handle as I exit, but I skipped that, too. I’d sanitize later.
I exited the bathroom.
The door on the left was still closed. The drunk guy was ahead of me, also on his way back to watch the game. The place was packed, so there was only a slit of red bar light between us. I don’t know how, but his desperate ghost had been vanquished. A beautiful lady, trying to join the line, walked toward us, saying “excuse me” with her eyes and hands. She had a gold necklace with a cross on it. This is relevant, I promise.
The drunk guy didn’t move. Instead, he (mis)interpreted—as drunkards often do—her pleading eyes as an invitation.
“That’s a nice necklace. What does the ‘T’ stand for?” he mumbled, laughing halfheartedly at his joke.
I’d heard this joke before. Jason Segel’s character in Shrinking used it to quip with his love interest. I actually liked it. But the timing was terrible. Using that line as an overture, and disregarding the disgust on her face (as drunk men tend to do), he straightened himself the best he could and prepared another line.
Observing this interaction between his new lustful ghost and the ghost of dread every woman carries around men, I grabbed him by the shoulders, nudged him slightly out of her way, and pretended to know him. I greeted him enthusiastically, called him the wrong name, and complimented his nice plaid shirt. She escaped. He was confused, and my half-dry hands were now sweaty, but thankfully, even the drunk like to be complimented.
He smiled without teeth, I apologized for the confusion, we shook hands, and most importantly, neither of us peed our pants.
TOGETHER WITH VIKTOR
Your support queue gets a head start every morning.
Viktor reads overnight tickets, tags them by product area, summarizes the patterns, and posts a brief in #support. The agent picks up the queue already triaged. The PM sees recurring requests rolled up by Friday.
THINGS
A quote
If, of three friends (A, B, and C), A should die, then B loses not only A but “A’s part in C,” while C loses not only A but “A’s part in B.” In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s reaction to a specifically Caroline joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald. Hence true Friendship is the least jealous of loves. Two friends delight to be joined by a third, and three by a fourth, if only the newcomer is qualified to become a real friend.”
Help Veron.
Veron overcame great shame and embarrassment to reach out to me, a complete stranger, for help. Consider what level of desperation would move you do the same. What are we here for if not to help each other when we can?
Please click the button below to learn more about Veron’s story and help her achieve her dreams.
A picture
I played UNO for my first time with these people and it is the most violent card game I’ve ever played. Highly recommend.
WORK
The PROPER way
It’s Little-known Excel Functions Awareness Month (I made this up), so I’m spreading awareness.
Did you know the function PROPER can make your mangled text look normal? Seriously. Look:
PRODUCTS
A course
A guide
FUN
The Friday Fix playlist
Your picks
> Why can’t we see atoms?
> Save money on your AI chatbot of choice
> The world’s most beautiful restaurants
Have a great weekend,
— SO
