Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Service with a smile....

Today my baby boy begins his official first job...or his first official job.

Hey...don't judge, the kid has an entrepreneurial spirit and has made lots and lots of money in unconventional ways (all of which are legal).

He had a paper route (and sure, Goog and I did most of the work, but hey...what are the girls in your life for anyway? right??)

He's made lucrative deals on Ebay and Craig's List.

He worked with a man building porches and another cleaning out repossessed homes.

He sells wise buys at the Gibraltar Trade Center.

And he also has a winning way with conning his mother out of a few bucks here and there.

So the kid has managed to make ends meet for a while and now he (and dad have) decided its time for a real job.

He's been looking for a long time, applying everywhere.

He's gone on an interview or two.

Initially he had no interest in working "fast food".

Everyone who works there has too many pimples, he explains.

They are in the midst of the grease all day long and look what happens, he says.

I have to work hard at keeping this gorgeous mug looking good, pimple free...don't want to back slide, he teases.

So he finally concedes and takes the fast food job.

He's happy to report that the training consists of playing a video game.

A video game that teaches one how to properly build a burger (oooohhhh holy brother, how this world has changed).

He had to drop I had to drop nearly 40 smackaroos on some ugly black non-slip dressy work shoes.

My suggestion of painting his old gym shoes black and slappin a bit of duct tape on the souls fell on deaf ears.

So since yesterday I'm feeling a bit sniff-ley at the thought of him beginning to make his way in the world by becoming a bona fide working member of society.

And I'm hoping that the public treats him with kindness.

And this morning I feel the need to offer him some last minute words of advice....

1. Don't give your friends free food
2. So help me God, if you should decide that the pimple factory isn't for you and those damn freakin ass non-slip black work shoes have been bought for naught and are not returnable and you haven't yet made enough flow to pay me back for them...

I SWEAR TO YOU.... I'll have dad sit on your chest and I solemnly promise that I will pull each and every one of your nose hairs out... one by one with my sharp tweezers...we straight??

Go conquer the world sweet Bear, one burger at a time.

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