Author: Mark Myers

I am a husband of one, father of four daughters, a dreamer, a builder, a believer, and most enjoyably a writer. In 2015, I became a reluctant Childhood Cancer Advocate as we lost our youngest daughter Kylie to the disease. Kylie taught me to steal joy from even the worst of circumstances and I will always be on the lookout for happiness among the thorns of life. Join me for a generous helping of laughter and tears.

Traveling PSA and a Good, Long Pee

.Reading time 4 minutes.

We left Florida at 4 am to avoid the Thanksgiving mobs traveling on Sunday. Wanting to be home, my wife and kids got ready in silence and quietly folded themselves into the seats of the van. They were asleep before I cranked the engine. I got coffee and gas to keep me rolling through the dark as we headed north.

When we hit the Georgia line, I stopped to fill the van’s empty tank and empty my full one. While the gas poured, I stepped inside and had a good, long pee – the kind that makes you smile reflectively and wonder just how much the human bladder can hold. It was excellent.

When I returned, the pump was finished and no one inside was awake so I pulled out and resumed the trip.

A while down the road, one of the kids in the middle row yawned sleepily and asked, “Where’s Jenna?”

Through the rear view mirror I saw to my horror that third row was empty.

How?

My mind jumped to one possibility – she had gotten out to use the restroom while I was enjoying my long pee at some gas station many miles south of us without me knowing. Think of it, she didn’t have her phone to call me – no one knows phone numbers anymore. I pulled over panicked because I have no idea what city I stopped in to get gas or how many miles separate us. How would I find out? Call the credit card company and ask where I charged the gas?

“Where is my child, Visa?”

It is now 7 am and I have to wake my wife up and tell her that I’ve lost one of the girls.

That, my friend, is utter panic.

This is the difference between travelling with young children and travelling now that they’ve become adults. As a child, she would have never wandered into a gas station alone, but now she is an adult and able to do things independently. Yet she’s not quite independent.

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending because what actually happened was that she was responsible enough to tell her sister who, when I began to leave the gas station, said, “Dad, stop. We don’t have Jenna.”

Of course, I stopped and there she was standing at the entrance to the gas station with a bewildered look under her long curly hair. She climbed in and went back to sleep. But I was wide awake because for the next four hours I only considered the scenario I laid out earlier. That could have so easily happened. I had, “Oh crap” moments about every 30 minutes and checked the rear view mirror to count heads.

We now have new traveling rules for both driver and passengers.

  • Passenger – Always take your phone with you if you get out of the car.
  • Passenger – Don’t leave the car without telling the driver – someone else could go back to sleep.
  • Driver – don’t pull out without a head count.

Also, and this goes for everyone, don’t get so lost in a good pee that you might lose a child. No pee is worth that.

Under New Management

.Reading time 5 minutes.

Think of your best boss and then consider your worst. You likely have a mental picture of both right away. One makes you smile and the other grimace. Management is hard.

I started my professional career with a very good manager who took me under his wing and trained me for about six months before he fell victim to the dreaded, “personal problems”. When you’re twenty-two, you don’t understand what’s happening when your boss starts coming in late and looking like he slept on the sticky beer-floor of a frat house. I had no idea what was going on until the rumor mill swirled with talk of infidelity, divorce, and scandal. Finally one day, my formerly conservative boss came in to collect his last paycheck on his motorcycle wearing an earring and a leather jacket.

The next boss was only about three years older than me. He had no management experience and no discernable people skills. He had somehow caught the eye of the CEO and was completely out of his element. If we weren’t half my size he would have attempted management by fear. Since he was a little fella, he ruled through paranoia – often sneaking up on us to see what we were doing. Like all paragons of business, rather than coach us during the year, he decided to surprise us with our insufficiencies during our performance reviews. One of my coworkers actually walked out of her review never to return and the rest of us found new jobs within a month. I wonder what that bonehead is doing now.

I’ve had bad managers since those days, but I’ve mostly been blessed to work under some very good ones. Being a manager is difficult because it relies on people working hard toward a common goal. A good manager knows what motivates his or her employees. But in the end, people are people. We are terminally flawed and often self-seeking.

I hope this new guy is good.

We have new management.

IMG_1277They say dress for the job you want and not the job you have. While we were shopping for a new collar for Stanley we found this number with a bow tie. The minute we put it on him, he assumed the reigns. It wasn’t so much that he took over; he just looked so qualified that we gave him the promotion. But now, he’s turned into a little tyrant.

I used to think it was cute that he followed me around, standing behind me when I made coffee or got him food. Now I feel like he’s just watching me to make sure I’m doing it right. Before his rise to power, I loved to hear him squawk. Since he got promoted all I hear is him bellowing orders.

And we can’t call him Stanley anymore. With his new air of formality, we have taken to calling him Mr. Stanley.

He seems to like this new role and as long as we keep feeding him, following orders, and giving him salty chips to lick, he usually stays out of our affairs. No one else seems too concerned, but I’m your basic slacker here at home. So I feel like since he is always watching, my performance review has the potential to be negative. But that’s okay. I assume he will put me on some kind of notice before he terminates me.

I will say, I used to love how he purred and wrapped his little tail around my leg as he passed. But now, having the boss constantly rub your leg is quite disconcerting… like I’ve stepped into a 1950’s secretarial pool.

Sorry, Mr. Stanley, I was blogging… I’ll get back to work now.