My wife and I rented our first apartment from an elderly couple right after we graduated from college. The space consisted of three rooms and a bathroom squeezed into a renovated attic above the main house. It was a relatively cozy spot; however, the ceilings were sloped, which meant I would always knock my head against them if I got too close to the sides of the rooms. The rent was $365 a month, with all utilities included.
We have many wonderful, shared memories from that time that we often comment on: My wife learned to cook her first meals in the tiny kitchen. I began my career as an illustrator in the living room, drawing sketches of our life together. And I taught my wife how to properly field a baseball in the backyard.
At the time, I was working my first (and last) job in sales. And because of the type of sales job it was, I wore suits to work every day. My wife (who was still my girlfriend at the time) was helping people with their tax returns and waitressing at local restaurants. I much preferred her tax work over the waitressing because she never smelled bad when she was doing the financial stuff.
For weeks after she started her first waitressing gig, I never mentioned the awful stench she picked up while hanging around the restaurant kitchen (anyone who has waitered knows how pungent that smell can be). Finally, after one particularly odorous night, I broached the subject after she climbed into bed. In the kindest tone I could muster, I informed her of the lingering issue. Within seconds, she was out of bed and in the shower. From that day forward, there was never a shift where she didn’t shower minutes after arriving home.
My son is now waitering while he attends college and he’s discovering the same issue. He works at a Mexican restaurant, and while the food he brings home after his shifts is absolutely delicious, he still smells like crap. Thankfully, he can’t stand it either and makes it a point to jump into the shower after arriving home.
Regardless of the smell, my son is making pretty good money, which he enjoys. He’ll come home with a handful of money and slap it on the table, proudly announcing the final tally. I’ll then scoop it up, grab my phone, fire up my banking app, and transfer the corresponding amount into his account bank account. Unlike me (who always wanted cold, hard cash in my pocket), my son prefers to have his savings digitized.
Recently, he called complaining about his manager. My son apparently asked for his birthday off but never received it. When he complained to his manager, the middle-aged man curtly told him to “buck up and deal with it.”
My son was taken aback by this response and immediately called me to complain. I listened intently to his argument and then carefully worded my response. “I get that you did everything right when requesting the time off,” I stated, “but sometimes you have to suck it up when things don’t go your way. That guy has a business to run, and you opting out of a busy shift puts him in a serious bind.”
My son kept returning to the fact that he did what he was supposed to do but still did not get his way. I assured him that this would not be the last time that happened.
Whenever a situation like this occurs, I put some space between the event and my attempt at really driving my point home, which is what I did in this case. When he arrived home after his shift, still upset that he didn’t get the requested time off and was berated in the process, I sat him down and launched into my explanation.
“The world is not black and white,” I told him. “You can fight that point, but you’ll only get more upset.” I then explained, using several examples, that I dredged up from my own life, where I experienced the same situation. I framed my arguments and the arguments that were opposed to me just to show my kid that there’s more at play in human interaction than your side of the story.
This week’s feature, “Long December,” explores this same theme while highlighting that the world doesn’t have to be a binary place.
A struggling musician winds up another year in his tiny apartment, with a wife and newborn baby constantly reminding him that his life may not turn out like he planned.
I love a solid, low-budget film with a bunch of unknowns that manages to hit a chord, which is what “Long December” did. This film doesn’t highlight the once-in-a-million storyline but rather points out that you can miss out on your dream and still end up satisfied.
Check this one out if you’re in the mood for a solid little film with a poignant message. Being a fan of mellow, folk music won’t hurt either.
A melodious “B-” for “Long December,” now available to rent on Amazon Prime.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at [email protected].
