I work with my Dad. I don't know if I have mentioned that before, but I probably haven't because it isn't something I like to readily bring up. I mean, the minute I say that everyone thinks I got my job through nepotism, rather than hard work and lots of sucking up. So, there's that, oh, and the fact my Dad's restraining order only allows me to mention him in my blog a limited number of times a year.
It's always interesting to watch new people try to piece together exactly what our relationship is. I've had people tell me, when looking at pictures of Meg, that Tommy (my Dad) has an adopted granddaughter as well, and maybe I should talk to him about it. I've had people ask why we go to lunch together so often. I've had people who see us outside the office together widen their eyes and do double takes, unsure if they are seeing something illicit. One time I had a new co-worker come up to me and say "did you know Tommy has a picture of you in his office?" I put on my best shocked face. "Does he have one of you too," I asked. I let her off the hook then, but for a moment it was glorious.
Last Monday the most recent hire was being shown around the newsroom, and it was my time to be introduced.
"Have you met Tommy," I asked, knowing that my Dad is his boss. "What a jerk."
"Really?" His eyes became the size of saucers. Why was I saying this? Was I disgruntled? Or crazy? Or really concerned about him?
"Oh, yeah. Stay away from him as much as you can. Nothing but bad news."
He turned and started to walk away. One of my co-workers came up and took his arm, speaking low, letting him in on the joke. He turned, looking back at me. I smiled, and waved. He shook his head, both relieved and annoyed.
I picked up the phone to call my Dad in his office to tell him the story. He groaned.
My Mom thought it was funny though.
