|Brian's preferred work environment|
Anyway, lately he's been saying he is sick of weeding people's yards and wants a real job - one with air conditioning and maybe an employee discount. At the local movie theater, say. Only, he's just 15, which makes it difficult. Most places won't hire a 15-year-old, because of the restrictions on how many hours they can work during the week. Never mind that he is a homeschooler, these rules still apply.
So I drove him to a local grocery store which will sometimes hire 15-year-olds to bag groceries. He went in to talk to the manager, while I trailed him into the store at the required mom distance and headed over to Produce to wait for him. I noted that he paused at the entrance of the store to allow an older woman to precede him through the door. "Good," I thought. "My son knows not to knock down little old ladies. That's something."
I've been raising teens for a while, people. The bar, it has been lowered.
So, after 10 minutes, Brian joined me in Produce. "Well?" I asked him. "Did they give you a job?"
"I'm too young," he reported. "There's a small chance they might use me just for weekends, but I have to come back when the hiring manager is here."
We turned to go and were approached by a woman, the same one who Brian had waited for at the entrance. "Are you his mother?" she said. "I just want you to know that I think this young man is very polite. He was so pleasant to me when we were coming in!"
"Well, thank you," I said, glancing at Brian, who was looking embarrassed. "That's always nice to hear."
"You know," she continued, "He mentioned he was here looking for a job. I really need someone like him to do some yard work at my house. Let me just give you my number..."
I managed not to laugh, but, as soon as we got into the car, I yelled at Brian, "You got the WRONG JOB!" And Larry and I followed him around all that evening chanting, "Destiny! Destiny! No escaping destiny!" in our best Gene Wilder voices.
I can't imagine why he pretends not to know who we are anymore.