I spent the better part of my evening on the phone.
First I called my mother. We squared away details about my moving back in. As it turns out, they've recently gotten a wireless connection, and for a $40 chip, I will essentially have decent internet access after all. This relieves me greatly. We then talked about details-- in particular my little sister and how we're going to need to get it into her head that since I am now a paying tenant, no she cannot use the closet and dresser in my room, because I will be using it. No she cannot hang out with her friends in my room when I'm not home, and then barge in without knocking at 8:00 am because she forgot something. Andi is fifteen, and every time I come home, she's inevitably wearing some shirt I've been looking for for months. She then also inevitably argues with me to the teeth that said shirt was loaned to her by [insert best friend of the moment]. We're going to have to set boundaries down firmly from the start.
When that was through, we talked about my new job. I will essentially be cross-trained for a wide variety of tasks. At first, I'll start with dispatch, but I will most likely end up in a supervisor's position, essentially people-managing. I will be technically working under my stepfather, Adrian, although I'll be mostly autonomous.
Adrian has never been the kind of guy to give praise. I can count on one hand the number of times he's said he's proud of me, or that I did a good job with something. Usually, I can tell that I've done something he's proud of because he's quiet, satisfied. He doesn't gush. He doesn't offer hugs unless you hug him first (we've only recently started to hug). He's the silent type. In one way or another, I've always been seeking his approval. It's something I recognized in myself a long time ago, and it's probably the reason we had such heated arguments as I grew up. I wanted to prove to him that I was just as smart, that I was just as tough as he was. Of course, this inevitably got me either grounded or nearly thrown out (I lost count), but that's what it was, a lot of it.
My mother told me that the cat got out of the bag that I'll be coming on to work at Cory, and that I'm related to Adrian. This might be an initial problem because if I'm being groomed for a managerial position, it might be assumed that this is only so because I'm the boss's daughter.
She told me about a conversation that she'd overheard between Adrian and one of the other supervisors, Devin, who was questioning my training schedule. She told me about how Adrian had said that the reason I was being cross-trained for a managerial position is because quite frankly, I'm the best-qualified person he's seen for the job. It's not the college degree, it's not that I'm his daughter. He said, "when you see this little redhead walk in, you just watch. All of those guys on the docks are going to give her shit. Just look at how they treat Charlie [one of the other supervisors], and he's not even a girl. The difference is, she doesn't take shit. Remember who raised her. Her father doesn't take shit, and she doesn't take shit, either. That's why she got the job."
I think it was the most stunning bit of praise he's ever given me, crude as it was. And I know he'd never say it to me directly. Just hearing about it secondhand almost brought me to tears. Adrian and I had never been close, emotionally, because Adrian doesn't let people get emotionally close to him. The fact that he said that means more than all of the "I'm so proud of yous" of all the other fathers at Saturday's graduation combined. I'm his child. There's no blood linking us, but I'm his child.
So. Then I called my biological father, to tell him where I'll be leaving his ticket to graduation. It's so strange. For years, he was just "Dad." Now I can't think of him as anything other than "my father." So removed. Not dad. I know that he's going to gush on Saturday. He's going to say how proud he is, and he's going to take part of the credit for my success. It's what he does. It's what he always does. Proud papa, no matter that we haven't had a conversation that scratched the surface in a few years.
I'm going to let him hug me and let him gush, and I will take it with a grain of salt. Then, I will thank him politely, and I will go home with my family.
First I called my mother. We squared away details about my moving back in. As it turns out, they've recently gotten a wireless connection, and for a $40 chip, I will essentially have decent internet access after all. This relieves me greatly. We then talked about details-- in particular my little sister and how we're going to need to get it into her head that since I am now a paying tenant, no she cannot use the closet and dresser in my room, because I will be using it. No she cannot hang out with her friends in my room when I'm not home, and then barge in without knocking at 8:00 am because she forgot something. Andi is fifteen, and every time I come home, she's inevitably wearing some shirt I've been looking for for months. She then also inevitably argues with me to the teeth that said shirt was loaned to her by [insert best friend of the moment]. We're going to have to set boundaries down firmly from the start.
When that was through, we talked about my new job. I will essentially be cross-trained for a wide variety of tasks. At first, I'll start with dispatch, but I will most likely end up in a supervisor's position, essentially people-managing. I will be technically working under my stepfather, Adrian, although I'll be mostly autonomous.
Adrian has never been the kind of guy to give praise. I can count on one hand the number of times he's said he's proud of me, or that I did a good job with something. Usually, I can tell that I've done something he's proud of because he's quiet, satisfied. He doesn't gush. He doesn't offer hugs unless you hug him first (we've only recently started to hug). He's the silent type. In one way or another, I've always been seeking his approval. It's something I recognized in myself a long time ago, and it's probably the reason we had such heated arguments as I grew up. I wanted to prove to him that I was just as smart, that I was just as tough as he was. Of course, this inevitably got me either grounded or nearly thrown out (I lost count), but that's what it was, a lot of it.
My mother told me that the cat got out of the bag that I'll be coming on to work at Cory, and that I'm related to Adrian. This might be an initial problem because if I'm being groomed for a managerial position, it might be assumed that this is only so because I'm the boss's daughter.
She told me about a conversation that she'd overheard between Adrian and one of the other supervisors, Devin, who was questioning my training schedule. She told me about how Adrian had said that the reason I was being cross-trained for a managerial position is because quite frankly, I'm the best-qualified person he's seen for the job. It's not the college degree, it's not that I'm his daughter. He said, "when you see this little redhead walk in, you just watch. All of those guys on the docks are going to give her shit. Just look at how they treat Charlie [one of the other supervisors], and he's not even a girl. The difference is, she doesn't take shit. Remember who raised her. Her father doesn't take shit, and she doesn't take shit, either. That's why she got the job."
I think it was the most stunning bit of praise he's ever given me, crude as it was. And I know he'd never say it to me directly. Just hearing about it secondhand almost brought me to tears. Adrian and I had never been close, emotionally, because Adrian doesn't let people get emotionally close to him. The fact that he said that means more than all of the "I'm so proud of yous" of all the other fathers at Saturday's graduation combined. I'm his child. There's no blood linking us, but I'm his child.
So. Then I called my biological father, to tell him where I'll be leaving his ticket to graduation. It's so strange. For years, he was just "Dad." Now I can't think of him as anything other than "my father." So removed. Not dad. I know that he's going to gush on Saturday. He's going to say how proud he is, and he's going to take part of the credit for my success. It's what he does. It's what he always does. Proud papa, no matter that we haven't had a conversation that scratched the surface in a few years.
I'm going to let him hug me and let him gush, and I will take it with a grain of salt. Then, I will thank him politely, and I will go home with my family.