Tuesday, August 27, 2013

My Dad is cooler than your dad



So, yeah. Last week I might have reminisced about college dorm move in and shared with the world (or at least my tens of readers) that my parents snore. LOUDLY. BOTH OF THEM. And yeah, I might be feeling just a smidgeon of guilt for it. So, to assuage (thank you, three years of middle school spelling bees) my guilt, I feel the need to share parent stories that highlight my parents’ complete awesomeness rather than their ear, nose and throat issues. We’ll start with a Dad story.

Flashback to Christmas of 1994: I was a senior in college. (Or at least I was in my fourth year. It took me forever to actually graduate. But that’s a blog for another day.)  I was working for the devil himself at Walmart for minimum wage (which was $4.50/hour back then, FYI). 
 
Anyhoo, working at Walmart during Christmas time means that you work until about 6:45pm on Christmas Eve, you get one freaking day off on Christmas day and then you go back in to work at 6:45am on December 26th. Thirty-six hours was not enough time to drive home and back, so my parents packed their bags and drove to me. My roommates in the duplex had cleared out for the holidays because they didn’t have soul-sucking retail jobs, so Mom and Dad set up the air mattress in the living room and we had our little family Christmas there.

On the day after Christmas, I got up at a ridiculously early hour to make it to work by 6:45am. Mom and Dad (who were already up and functioning because they’re just weird that way) wished me a good day at work and hung around the duplex or something.

I forgot to mention that I didn’t just work in ANY department at Walmart. Oh no. I worked at the Service Desk. Working at the Service Desk the day after Christmas is brutal. It involves lots of lifting and listening to excuses, and whining. It is the first place people go on December 26th to return and exchange all the crappy gifts their loved ones gave them the day before. Just for the record, NO ONE wants a bread maker, bicycle pump or Mary-Kate and Ashley DVD box set for Christmas.

I finally got to leave work at 6:45pm that day. Twelve hours in a Walmart is enough to make anyone insane. On the way home from work, I was thinking “My mental health could REALLY use a beer right now. Aww, crap. Mom and Dad are here. That’s not going to happen.”

As often happens, I was wrong. I got to the duplex door and was fumbling with my keys when the door magically opened in front of me. And there was my dad. And do you know what he said? He said, “You’ve been gone a long time. I figured you could use this,” and he handed me a beer as I crossed the threshold. And the angels sang. It was one of those cool father-daughter moments. You know…the kind that they should make greeting cards about, but no one at Hallmark is progressive enough to pitch. (Note to self: look into the start up cost of a greeting card company that makes cards for weird people.)

So, in conclusion, Dad (as he had many times before) totally saved the day. To borrow from the kids these days and their complete overuse of punctuation: COOLEST. DAD. EVER.

Dad and me circa August 1976


(On the next episode, I'll share a marvelous Mom memoir....)

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