I Miss Being a Mall Santa
Dear Rémy,
Before I became a TV actor, I used to work as a mall Santa in Seattle. There’s something truly magical about donning that red suit every December, strapping on a pot belly and settling into a twinkling grotto as chilly-faced kids stream through.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it gave me a sense of purpose. I’d listen to kids’ Christmas wishes, hear parents laugh at the ridiculous things their toddlers said and feel like I was doing something that mattered. I even got to keep the Santa costume at the end of the run.
Now, my life looks very different. I’m on TV almost every night — procedurals, sitcoms, you name it. The work pays 2,000 times more per day than Santa ever did, but lately, it feels hollow. The parts I play are soulless, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m wasting my time. If I could, I’d go back to being Santa in a heartbeat — but I know I’d be recognized, and I couldn’t spoil the magic like that for the kids.
Am I chasing the wrong kind of success? How do I find meaning again?
Yours,
Searching for Saint Nick
Dear Searching for Saint Nick,
You don’t miss Santa — you miss the sense of purpose he gave you. Back then, it wasn’t about the pay or the prestige; it was about connection, joy and doing something that felt meaningful.
But let me ask: what would happen if you reframed success? What if you stopped chasing roles that leave you cold and used the freedom your career has given you to create something truly meaningful? Maybe it’s a project where you play someone who embodies the same spirit as Santa, or perhaps it’s stepping away from acting altogether to find new ways to connect with others.
And of course, you can still connect with your communities in a Christmassy manner — is there a festive persona you could invent that uses your real identity fused with something a bit magical? An elf, reindeer, or even a comedy Grinch version of you?
Here’s the question: when you picture the happiest version of yourself, what is he doing? It’s time to rewrite your story — not for fame or money, but for joy.
Yours,
Rémy
Help! My Ex is Making a Movie About Me!
Dear Rémy,
Next year, my ex-girlfriend is releasing a biopic, and it’s driving me nuts.
We didn’t part on the best terms, and although years have passed, I can’t stop worrying about what she might reveal to the world. Will she share details of the fight where I ugly-cried into a vat of Apple Pie Ben & Jerry’s? Or the fact that I couldn’t fall asleep between 2006 and 2008 unless I snuggled with a pillow effigy of myself? I’m not proud of how I treated her: I spoke down to her at music industry parties, was unreliable and only let her drive the smallest of my Porsches.
To make matters worse, I’m now married, and the thought of my past indiscretions being dragged up in this film makes me cringe. I’ve been pacing the floor of my Laurel Canyon mansion, staring at my walls of framed gold records, strategizing a counterattack. Should I hire a PR team to get ahead of it? Retreat to my private island in the Dutch Antilles? Or — and I know this is extreme — release my own biopic? I know it didn’t work out so well for Jennifer Lopez, but still…
What do you think, Rémy? I’m truly stumped.
Yours,
Unprotected Ex
Dear Unprotected Ex,
It sounds like you’re plotting an elaborate defense against an enemy who might not even be attacking. Could it be that your ex’s biopic isn’t the real problem but your lingering guilt over how things ended?
You’ve already admitted you weren’t the perfect partner. But let me ask: Are you willing to let her tell her story, or is your panic about protecting the image you’ve built since the breakup? Instead of orchestrating a counterattack (which makes you sound like Emperor Palpatine, by the way), could you lean into the quirks and flaws that make you human? The ice cream, the pillow effigy, the Porsche thing — what if those details actually endeared you to your audience?
And as for the biopic revenge plan, would it really make you feel better or just keep you stuck in the past? Here’s a thought: Maybe the best way forward isn’t a PR strategy but a song — one that owns your imperfections and turns the narrative into something only you can tell. In short: be more Yoda, less Palpatine.
Yours,
Rémy
My Career as a Movie Caterer Is Killing Me!
Dear Rémy,
I’ve always loved food and caring for people, but catering wasn’t my first dream. In my twenties, I wanted to be a producer. I even worked as a production assistant for a few years in L.A., but I realized quickly that I’d never have the control or perfection I craved in such a chaotic job.
Catering felt different. I could create something tangible — perfect, even — that made people happy. For a long time, it worked. I started my own catering company, and I’ve fed casts and crews on some of Hollywood’s biggest sets. Watching an actor light up over one of my homemade apricot madeleines used to feel like my small way of making the industry a better place.
But lately, it’s become unbearable. Castmembers ask me where ingredients are sourced from, whether the fruit salad is gluten-free, or if my menus are consistent with an alkaline diet (the answers are “Costco,” “Fruit doesn’t contain gluten” and “I don’t know what that means”). Directors complain if the quinoa isn’t cooked “just so,” and half the crew demands vegan options while the other half mocks them for it. It feels like nothing is ever good enough anymore, and I’ve lost the joy I once felt in making people happy.
Rémy, should I adapt, or is it time to move on?
Yours,
Hating on Catering
Dear Hating on Catering,
You’ve built an incredible career by creating something tangible in an industry that thrives on chaos. That’s nothing short of a miracle, and I only wish there was more recognition for those of you who keep the industry’s wheels turning behind the scenes — a Gastronomical Grammys, perhaps.
But it sounds like the joy you once found in perfection has been overshadowed by the impossibility of meeting everyone’s demands.
Let me ask: Was it really about perfection, or was it about the happiness you brought to others? And is it possible to find that again — maybe not in movie catering but in a way that lets you reconnect with what you love about food? Whether it’s opening your dream restaurant, writing a cookbook or setting new boundaries for your business, it’s time to reclaim your vision.
Your dream might have evolved, but it’s still yours. Are you ready to follow it?
Yours,
Rémy
Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran TV producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which offers business and career coaching to high performers in media. Send queries to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.
English (US) ·