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I used to host dinner parties every week also, sixteen weeks straight. It started with a few friends, but over time the guest list evolved: VCs, founders, ex-McKinsey types, even one guy who claimed to have invented the QR code. Each week, the ideas got sharper, the wine older, the insights deeper. I thought I was building the modern-day Algonquin Round Table.
Then, on week 17, I gave everyone violent food poisoning. VCs were projectile vomiting into my succulents. A fintech founder shit his pants on my Eames chair. The QR code guy passed out face-first in the panna cotta. I havenāt hosted since, but I did gain insight: humility pairs poorly with undercooked shellfish. 1 reply
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