Over the weekend, my father was asking me about some of my work-related angst. So I started telling him about some of the things causing me heartburn. Right off, he took the side of our management team, and naturally, that was annoying. Equally annoying that he was trying to advise me on how to work with my management team, because clearly, since I wasn't part of the solution, I must be part of the problem. Natch.
Of course, two weeks ago, I had my father on what I lovingly refer to as Death Watch.
I went to Atlanta to see him, he was horizontal and incoherent all weekend. Even my mother, retired nurse, thought he was dying. And, to be fair, we're all dying. But we thought he was actively doing so at an accelerated rate.
Then, Dr. Cohen, modern miracle worker, got his meds readjusted, and he did a quick and definite 180.
This past weekend, he was up, and coherent, and making egg salad.
And advising me on how to be a better employee.
Really, it's no surprise that Dad took the side of management. He was management, for years and years and years. And he's forgotten what Rank and File feels like. And to be fair, he was a good manager, but to also be fair, I'm a damn good employee in an industry that didn't exist when my father was last putting on a suit and tie (red paisley, always) on a regular basis.
I called him on it, told him it would be nice for him to just listen without trying to fix it or fix me.
Look, old man - just because you were dying in April doesn't mean you get a free pass in May to get all corner office on my ass.
And don't get me wrong, people. I love my father - he's one of the most amazing people I know, and I trust his advice. He made some good points, when he wasn't sucking up to my senior management team.
I'm sure there's a day when I'll wish more than anything I had my father around to take up for the bossmen.
But not today.
Of course, two weeks ago, I had my father on what I lovingly refer to as Death Watch.
I went to Atlanta to see him, he was horizontal and incoherent all weekend. Even my mother, retired nurse, thought he was dying. And, to be fair, we're all dying. But we thought he was actively doing so at an accelerated rate.
Then, Dr. Cohen, modern miracle worker, got his meds readjusted, and he did a quick and definite 180.
This past weekend, he was up, and coherent, and making egg salad.
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| If you've never made egg salad with green olives, you owe it to yourself to try it ASAP. |
And advising me on how to be a better employee.
Really, it's no surprise that Dad took the side of management. He was management, for years and years and years. And he's forgotten what Rank and File feels like. And to be fair, he was a good manager, but to also be fair, I'm a damn good employee in an industry that didn't exist when my father was last putting on a suit and tie (red paisley, always) on a regular basis.
 |
| I come by my love of paisley honestly. |
I called him on it, told him it would be nice for him to just listen without trying to fix it or fix me.
Look, old man - just because you were dying in April doesn't mean you get a free pass in May to get all corner office on my ass.
And don't get me wrong, people. I love my father - he's one of the most amazing people I know, and I trust his advice. He made some good points, when he wasn't sucking up to my senior management team.
I'm sure there's a day when I'll wish more than anything I had my father around to take up for the bossmen.
But not today.
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