XXXIII. Bring Your Kids to Work Day
Every year, my office supports having a "bring your kids to work day." It's such a novel idea. What child wouldn't want to come visit the place where mommies and daddies disappear to happily in the mornings and come back from with rage every evening? I know I did.
My opportunities were very different growing up. For my mother, I would strap on my safety mask and head to the dry cleaners. If you've never been behind the scenes at a dry cleaners, it's a hazardous wasteland oozing with the fumes of lethal chemicals. But for a child, it is a truly wondrous place. My mother would always find me removing my protective chemical mask so I could inhale the sweet nectar of true imagination. The only downfall was, that I could only remain in there for a half hour at a time, and most trips resulted in an overnight stay in the hospital.
When it was my father's turn, I would go visit a variety of places. My earliest memories of visiting the very same circular saw in the saw mill that he cut three of fingers off still give me chills (in a good way). Some were less spectacular. The hot dog vendor stand, the toll booth, the men's bath house, the highway construction scene, the cock-fighting ring: All these places where my dad made an honest day's living never quite lived up to my memories of the old saw mill.
Now it's my turn. True, I don't have any legitimate children at this stage in my life, but I don't think that should hold me back. In years past, I thought it best to try to be the best host that the office has to offer. Telling stories works fine, but the children seem to lose interest after the main character dies. But none of my other strategies have worked so far. Why, I even let my friend Dan's son play with my scissors. I guess I should have asked if he had a history of mental illness beforehand though. And after the incident with Stephen's daughter and the coffee, the excitement about bring your kids to work day just hasn't been the same.
Now I find myself at a crossroads. While the most logical solution might be to take my former lover Shelly's daughter Mary to work, I don't think that this would be the best time to test the limits of that restraining order.
Another year and another bring your kids to work day has passed. For now, I guess I'll have to settle for entertaining the children of others, but next year, I think I may just play it safe and see if "Dirt", the resident homeless man outside our office wants to come see how our office works. I can't wait
My opportunities were very different growing up. For my mother, I would strap on my safety mask and head to the dry cleaners. If you've never been behind the scenes at a dry cleaners, it's a hazardous wasteland oozing with the fumes of lethal chemicals. But for a child, it is a truly wondrous place. My mother would always find me removing my protective chemical mask so I could inhale the sweet nectar of true imagination. The only downfall was, that I could only remain in there for a half hour at a time, and most trips resulted in an overnight stay in the hospital.
When it was my father's turn, I would go visit a variety of places. My earliest memories of visiting the very same circular saw in the saw mill that he cut three of fingers off still give me chills (in a good way). Some were less spectacular. The hot dog vendor stand, the toll booth, the men's bath house, the highway construction scene, the cock-fighting ring: All these places where my dad made an honest day's living never quite lived up to my memories of the old saw mill.
Now it's my turn. True, I don't have any legitimate children at this stage in my life, but I don't think that should hold me back. In years past, I thought it best to try to be the best host that the office has to offer. Telling stories works fine, but the children seem to lose interest after the main character dies. But none of my other strategies have worked so far. Why, I even let my friend Dan's son play with my scissors. I guess I should have asked if he had a history of mental illness beforehand though. And after the incident with Stephen's daughter and the coffee, the excitement about bring your kids to work day just hasn't been the same.
Now I find myself at a crossroads. While the most logical solution might be to take my former lover Shelly's daughter Mary to work, I don't think that this would be the best time to test the limits of that restraining order.
Another year and another bring your kids to work day has passed. For now, I guess I'll have to settle for entertaining the children of others, but next year, I think I may just play it safe and see if "Dirt", the resident homeless man outside our office wants to come see how our office works. I can't wait
posted by Max Rays at 12:09 PM
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