There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.” Turns out that’s pretty good advice.
For a while now, I and my wife, known to the young dudes as She Who Must Be Pacified At All Costs, have been urging (read screaming at them) Sarcasmo and Zippy the Monkey Boy to get a job. It’s not because we can’t afford to feed them — yet. More like we think that a job will help them become a bit more self-sufficient, learn to be more confident and help them understand responsibility.
And also get them a few extra bucks in their pocket.
Well, now we’re well and truly hoisted on our own petard. Zippy the Monkey Boy turned out to be listening and then went out and got a job.
Here’s the problem, though. The job he got? He’s a delivery boy for a Chinese restaurant. Yeah. Zippy the Monkey Boy. This is the young dude who, seven minutes after getting his learning permit and driving the both of us home from the DMV, ran over a dog that darted out into the road.
This is a young dude who’s a pretty good driver. Unfortunately, he knows he’s pretty good, which means he’s not driving around in the state of paranoia and desperate fear that I like to cultivate in young drivers.
And he’s out on the road, looking for places he has never been and then taking food there.
Those nights when he’s out on a delivery can be sort of nerve-wracking. We know he’s getting all the good stuff we want him to get from having a job, but the idea that he’s running around out there in a car most of the night, and interacting with people who might not have his best intentions in mind. . . well, that’s a little scary.
It got worse when he said to me after his second night on the job, “Dad, I want to get a really big knife so I can keep it under the seat when I’m on the job. That way I can protect myself.”
Yeah. Not a great thought that. More on that Monday.