“So you’re telling me I’m not invited.”
“According to their wishes, right.”
“Do you think they had me in mind when they told you their wishes?”
“I’m not sure they had anybody in mind. This was just the way they wanted it to be.”
“So you’re telling me I can’t come to my own father’s retirement party.”
“Well, yeah, in so many words. It’s just that everyone involved wanted a very low-key affair.”
“Whose decision was this exactly?”
“It was your dad’s. Well, and the other two guys retiring. We wanted to do something special. I mean, they’d been here almost 100 years between them. Your dad has been here 40 years. Of course we wanted to do something bigger. Something where all friends and family members would be invited. But they didn’t want that. What they wanted was a quiet lunch at their favorite restaurant on their last day. And that’s what we’re doing.”
“I understand that. But that shouldn’t preclude me from coming. This is my dad’s retirement, a huge day for him. He’s given everything he has to the company, and I want to be there to thank him for all the things he did there. Because he made some sacrifices to make sure his family did OK. To make sure I could go to college. Can you understand any of this?”
“Of course I do. But I’m only doing what they asked for. No family members. Just close friends at work. You’re not the only person to be upset. But everyone else has understood.”
“Then that’s their problem, not mine. Because, honestly, I don’t see how you can keep me from being there.”
“I would just remind you what they wanted, and then hope you make the right decision.
It’s not that you wouldn’t be welcome. It’s just that you’re not … invited.”
“Yeah. Their wishes. I get it. And I will make the right decision. Bye.”
--
“Hi, you’ve reached the America West reservation center. My name is Linda. How can I help you today?”
“Hi Linda. I’m interested in a roundtrip to
“OK, and what is your departing city?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.
“
“Right.”
“And when were you thinking of going?”
“Well, this Friday, if anything available.”
“We’ll certainly check all the possibilities. When would you be returning?”
“Sunday.”
“That would be the 17th, right?”
“Exactly, the 17th.”
“Let’s look at Friday first. Unfortunately I can’t offer you any discounts because-“
“Yeah, I know. This is kind of a last-minute thing so I know I’m going to have to pay a premium. But it’s worth it.”
“We have several flights available that day to
“Whatever gets me there pretty early. I need to be in the city before
“Let’s see what we’ve got for that morning. The
“Let’s go with the earlier one. Just to be sure. That’s gets me there a lot earlier than I need to be, but that’s OK.”
“Great. Let’s look a Sunday. What time did you have in mind?”
“Mid-morning or so. I’m a little more flexible on that one.”
“Here’s one that departs
“No, that first one sounds good. That’ll be fine.”
“OK, let’s see the fare … leaving Friday, coming back Sunday, that’ll be $465 round trip.”
“Oh man, that’s even higher than I thought. If I change flights, can I get something a little lower?”
“Well, let me try a few different combinations. Hold for just a few minutes.”
“No problem. I need to get there, but if I can save a little money along the way, it’d help. I’m surprising my dad on his retirement.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Just a few more seconds …”
“He’s been with the same company for most of his life. He got the job when he got out of the Navy. Insurance. He didn’t tell me a lot about what he did but I remember this one story where he went to check some guy’s claim and I guess he made him mad and this guy grabbed my dad’s coat, only my dad weighed something like 110 pounds and he just slips out of his coat and takes off running while this guy chases-“
“OK, if you take the later flight Saturday, looks like we can save you some money. That one prices out at $370. Would you like to try that one?”
“What time will that one get me to
“
“Man, that’s cutting it kind of close. Do you have any idea how long it would take to get from there to downtown?”
“No, I’m really not aware of that.”
“Let’s see, if it takes me, like, 15 minutes to get out of the airport, grab a bus at around 11, and it should take no more than an hour to get downtown, right?”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”
“Yeah, that’s OK. Um, let’s go with the cheaper one. That should work.”
“OK, let me get your name and address and we’ll go from there.”
--
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know when we might be pulling away from the gate? Any idea?”
“No sir. When the pilot gets the OK, we’ll be on our way.”
“The people at the counter said there was some fox in
“Right, but the weather changes all the time. We’ll take off as soon as we get the OK.”
“But has anyone said when that might be, if the airport is closed or anything? Could it be just a few more minutes, or could this be-“
“As soon as the pilot gets the OK, we’ll be on our way. There’s really nothing else I can tell you at this point.”
”But has the pilot said anything? Because I really need to be there on time, there’s this lunch and my dad-“
“As soon as the pilot gets the OK, we’ll pull away from the gate and be on our way. Now sir, if you don’t mind, I have to attend to a few other things before we take off.”
“Sure, sorry. So as soon as the pilot gets the
”We’ll be on our way. Yes sir. We appreciate your patience.”
“Yeah, it’s just that … damn.”
“This sucks, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“This. Just sitting here. You get on the plane and no one says anything about a delay, then once everyone’s on, we just sit here. And they don’t tell us anything.”
“All I wanted was a little information. You’d think they’d know if it was going to be three minutes or three hours. Just tell us, you know?”
“My last flight, SF was fogged in all morning. At least we were still on the concourse when we found out the flight was delayed. We didn’t get in until, like, 2. I missed my meetings, but what are you going to do?”
“If I miss my thing today, I mean, this is like a one-shot deal. If I miss it, it’s over. That’s it.”
“Sorry to hear that. I’m lucky because the people I work with know how chancy it is to fly into the city this time of year.”
“I didn’t even think of that. I just figured everything would go OK.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why you heading north?”
“My dad. His retirement party. Been with the same company for, I don’t know, forever. Forty years. More, I think.”
“Man, you don’t see that anymore. I’m on my, let’s see … third, no, fourth job in, hmm … nine years.”
“That’s like everybody now, I know. I can’t imagine staying with one company for so long. But that’s my dad’s generation.”
“No kidding. When I retire, I’m not going to have a cake and a gold watch or anything. Maybe a Triscuit and a Timex. Yeah, probably. It’s just that if I want to move up, seems I gotta switch companies. Better offers. Got to go where the money is.”
“I feel the same way. But you know? I didn’t find this out until, about, maybe a couple of years ago. We’d been in the Bay Area for two or three years after my dad was transferred from LA. And then he was offered this job at division headquarters. This huge promotion. Big raise. Prestige. The whole thing.”
“Very cool.”
“Only I was about to go into high school and my brother was in his senior year. The job would have taken him to
“Sounds like he had his priorities.”
“Yeah, he did … Jesus, when the hell we going to take off?”
--
“Hi, I need to get to downtown.”
“Where downtown?”
“Financial district. End of Market. Near the
“Follow this sidewalk to a crosswalk, the white one down there, cross and you’ll see a sign that says ‘SF Muni.’ You want the No. 110 Market.”
“How long will that take?”
“You need to go to just about the end of the line. I’d say a little more than an hour.”
“No, I need to be there in, uh, 35 minutes.”
“Cab.”
“Cab?”
“Only thing that will get you there in 35 minutes. Cab.”
“Where do I get a cab?”
“Follow the sidewalk. Go past the crosswalk to the next crosswalk. You’ll see the cab stand. Might be a line.”
--
“I need to get to the financial district. End of Market. There’s a restaurant there at the foot of the
“Sinbad’s.”
“Yeah, Sinbad’s. Any idea how long it will take.”
“About 45 minutes.”
“But the guy in the transportation booth said you could get me there in 35 minutes.”
“Traffic. People in the booth never consider traffic. More traffic around this time. Lunch.”
“That’s why I need to get there in 35 minutes. I’m meeting someone for lunch.”
“OK, see what I can do.”
“Any idea how much it’ll be?”
“Probably, let’s see … you know, from the airport you pay a surcharge.”
“A surcharge?”
“Yeah. They charge us more, so we charge you more. Riders always complain. Surcharge? There’s a surcharge? It’s not up to us. They charge us, we charge you.”
“So how much?”
“With the surcharge, about $40.”
“Damn.”
“No surcharge, it would be cheaper.”
“Well, at this point time is more important than money. I just need to be there as soon as possible.”
“See, traffic not so bad here. Airport not bad, freeway not bad. See? But city very busy right now.”
“Just, you know, do what you can. Because it’s really important.”
“I know. Always in hurry. I always go fast as I can. But not always good enough, no. People late, people rush. Be here for this, there for that. Not my fault be late. I just drive.”
“Definitely, you bet. But if I miss this, I miss it. Forever.”
“Well, I do best I can.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. I know my dad would too. If he knew.”
“Your dad?”
“He’s retiring today. I’m going to be, like, the only family member there. He didn’t want a big deal, so it’s a surprise. Flew in from
“
“Yeah. Not too bad. Yet. A lot nicer here.”
“What does your dad do?”
“Insurance. Not sales. I tell people that and they get this image of this really annoying guy who calls you up every two weeks telling you you need more insurance. He’s in claims. Was in claims. He was a boss. One of them.”
“Hmm.”
“I didn’t really know much about what he did while I was growing up. But right now he’s the Assistant Division Claims Manager for the Pacific region. So he’s the No. 2 man.”
“…”
“The No. 1 guy is retiring today too. He’s a few years older than my dad. I think my dad wouldn’t be retiring if he’d been offered that guy’s job. But he wasn’t. Some guy from another office got it. I don’t know the whole story, only that the guy is in his 30s. And my dad wasn’t quite ready to work for someone who could be his own son. He worked too long and too hard for that. So he retired. Quietly. Because that’s how he does things. For the most part.”
“You want a phone number to complain about the surcharge?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not? Let me find a pen.”
--
“Anchor Steam, please.”
“Want a glass?”
“Please. Geez, great view.”
“Yeah, it’s not a bad place to work, get to see that every day. You should see it just as the fog is lifting. You can still see the pillars and the road, but this low cloud will shroud the towers. Hardly ever happens that way, usually the fog down low is the last to burn out, but when it happens, it’s amazing. You just want to stop and stare. And then it’s gone.”
“Hey, have you seen a large group come in? Business suits, mostly older guys?”
“No, no one like that. There was a group of maybe six, but no more than that. But they were older in suits. Like that doesn’t describe just about everyone who comes in here.”
“So no big groups in yet? Lots of toasting, laughing, that sort of thing?”
“So far pretty quiet. As far as anything like that goes. What time is your party starting?”
“No, it’s not my party. It’s for a few guys retiring. It’s supposed to start, well, it was supposed to start about 20 minutes ago.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that yet. We get our share of retirement parties. Easy to spot. Lots of drinks. The old guys look like they have no idea what’s going to happen next. The younger guys are smiling because they’re moving to the corner office.”
“One of the retirees is my dad.”
“Hey, that’s great. He must be pretty happy.”
“I think so. For the most part. It wasn’t a mandatory thing, he chose to. So yeah, I think it’s a good thing.”
“He must have plans.”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“I’m nowhere near retirement, but I sure wouldn’t mind that kind of time off. Got more important things to do than tend bar, right?”
“No kidding. But it still seems kinda backwards to me. We’ve got to work hard, put in a lot of hours to make sure our family, our kids have what they need. Only we’re gone so much, working. Then we retire, finally get all that time coming to us. Only the kids are grown and the house seems way too big, and all those things you wanted to do, there’s no one to do them with.”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“Too bad no one can invent a system that allows us to raise our kids then, when they’re on their own, we go to work and pay it all back.”
“But at 50, after 20 years of kids, you’re probably not going to have the energy to drag your ass to work every day.”
“Probably not. Looking back, I don’t know how my dad did it. Getting up at 5, quick breakfast, heading into the city, work, head back, home at
“My dad was a lot like that. I was lucky. He could push a little too hard sometimes, starting with Little League because he went absolutely batshit over that, even though I hated it and played maybe two innings a game in right field.”
“My dad wasn’t like that. He was mostly supportive, though I still can’t believe he made me play in a Little League game instead of going to Bat Day at Anaheim Stadium.”
“Man, that’s rough.”
“And I was pretty much a scrub, too. The manager probably would have loved it if I didn’t show, but my dad said I had a responsibility. Still, he was always there for me. Not that he was at every game, or was there all the time I needed help on homework or whatever. I remember this one time, we were in the kitchen together and I have no idea why this came up, but he says something like, ‘Son, do you know about where babies come from?’”
“Oh shit, that’s not a conversation I ever had with my dad. No way. It was like, ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell.’”
“That’s almost how it was with my dad. Only now he’s saying, ‘You know that a man’s penis becomes erect and is inserted into the woman’s vagina’ and all I can do is nod my head. I mean it was, ‘Dad, you’re like five years too late, man.’ Hell, I was 16! But looking back, I’m pretty sure he brought it up to err on the side of caution. Hoping I knew it but just in case …”
“Cool, he was just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, he was. Like this other time – wait, I’m just going off, aren’t I?”
“It’s OK. Go on.”
“I had just graduated from college. Cal Poly
“
“Yeah. Rocky Mountain High, that whole thing. I’d grown up in
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“Now you tell me. I wasn’t sure how to break this news to my dad because he was all, ‘Son, you can stay with us as long as you want until you find a job around here, build up a nest egg and when you feel comfortable, you can start looking for a place of your own.’ And here I am wondering just how much I can fit in the back of my Datsun.”
“Oh man, my first car was a Datsun. Only it’s Nissan now, right?”
“Yeah, it is. I had a Datsun B-210 hatchback. It was called a Honeybee. Was that gay or what? Especially for a car.”
“Yeah, that’s gay.”
“So my dad came down to Poly to help me pack. And when we’re done and about to leave, I tell him about
“Let me guess – he didn’t take it real well.”
“Pretty much. He just started screaming, saying I was making a big mistake, that I was more than welcome – hell, I was expected to spend a year or two at home, build up a nest egg. That fucking nest egg. I will never forget that.”
“So what happened?”
“When it was pretty clear I wasn’t going to change my mind, what with being 21 and naturally irresponsible, he turned around and stalked off. There were these railroad tracks and he’s walking along them and I watch him until he rounds the bend and is out of my sight. So I wait, go into the apartment one more time to make sure I got everything.”
“Let me guess – that’s the last time you saw your dad until today.”
“Yeah, how did you know? No, not quite. He came back about a half hour later. We didn’t say much, just got back into our cars and drive back home. About two weeks later I left, my car holding clothes, my TV, my stereo and about 100 albums. And I left to seek my fortune.”
“Did he ever get over it?”
“The night before I left, as I was jamming the last of my stuff in the car, he comes out, you know, doing the fatherly thing, making sure all was well. And he says, ‘Look in the glove compartment.’ OK, I look. There’s an envelope. ‘Open it.’ I open it. I start flipping through this sheaf of $20 bills. ‘There’s $600 there and more if you need it. We don’t agree with everything you do, but we will always be there for you.’ And he hugs me. ‘I won’t be there in the morning when you leave,’ he says. ‘I don’t think I can take it. But know that I love you very much, and wish the very best for you in everything. And I will miss the hell out of you.’”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. And now I’m here. To wish him well. Hardly seems like enough.”
“There’s a bunch of older guys coming in now, looks like it might be your group.”
“Cool. Hey, I’m just going to sit here, let them get settled. Then I want to send over a beer, have the waitress point me out. Then just stroll over there and shake my dad’s hand. Think he’ll like that?”
“Yeah, he’ll like that.”
“I think so too.”
