Dad Goes Overboard
A week ago Friday, our extended family celebrated Gabriel's kindergarten achievement at the local Red Robin. Chaos, of course, ensued.
"So Gabriel," I said gravely, "now that you've graduated, we should hit the newspapers together."
"What?" he asked.
"It's time to find you a job."
"Dad! You're joking!"
Actually, a good call on Gabriel's part. Dad jokes a lot. Fueled by sibling energy, particularly from my brother who was sitting next to Gabriel, I was in a particularly joking mood.
"Yes, I am," I admitted, "but what kind of job would you like if we were looking."
"Daaad!" Obviously, I was embarassing my six-year old son by even bringing up the subject. Granted, my parents and I had had this discussion a bit later: when I was sixteen or so. Something about encouraging me to get a non-family-business job and me replying, "I'll get a job when I'm ready to get a job, not because you tell me to get a job." Ah, to be sixteen again!
My brother caught my eye. You should get him an application, he mouthed. My head had been moving in that direction, too, so I excused myself from the table and headed to the greeter's desk at the front of the restaurant.
When I returned, I handed the application to Gabriel. "Maybe you could fill this out, Gabriel. For a summer job, maybe?"
"Dad, I'm too young to have a job!"
"Well, you know you graduated..."
"I already have a job," he sighed. For the next few minutes, he moved quite fluidly through his current job (making calendars for other people, apparently) to non-job things that filled his busy schedule to something about his age.
You should have the manager come talk to him, the helpful Uncle K mouthed again from across the table.
I smiled, mouthing back, I already did.
Uncle K laughed.
A few minutes later, the Red Robin manager, a very good sport, swung by.
"Are you the one looking for a job?"
Gabriel blushed.
The manager flipped a chair around and began the interview. He was gentle and funny. Gabriel answered his questions, mainly explaining that he already had a job and that he was just a kid! Gabriel assiduously avoiding making eye contact (not the best way to win a job, that). The family chuckled gently.
In the end, the manager balked at Gabriel's price ($100 for washing dishes!), thanked him for being a good sport, and left the table.
And Gabriel, having kept a surprised-but-happy composure throughout the entire interview, dropped his head to the table and cried.
Yep. This was a sure sign that Dad Had Gone Overboard. Gabriel thought everyone's good-natured laughter was laughter at him and, to be honest at his age, I could understand that perspective. I went over, picked him up, and held him. Waitresses passed by, and I silently confirmed, yes, I'm That Guy, The Guy That Made His Cutely Dimpled Son Cry.
Gabriel and I worked out my apology and the attempt at just-in-fun within a few minutes, and he swung over to sit next to me. Within a few minutes, the manager walked back by and presented Gabriel with a Good Citizenship award attached to a free milkshake coupon. All was soothed away by a creamy chocolate cup.
Soon after, we picked up our things and prepared to leave. The manager caught us at the door, and pointed Gabriel out to his teammate.
"This guy's gonna work for us in ten years or so," he said.
"All right!" his teammate said.
Gabriel smiled. The chocolate shake mustache still at Gabriel's lips, we headed home to begin his mostly job-less summer vacation.
-- Dad
