"Come up to my room, Daddy." This was the yell I got the night before from Reagan. She wanted to go over some ground rules about my appearance at her school the next morning for Career Day. Her rules were pretty common-sense like:
- Don't embarass me.
- see rule #1.
OK, I can handle that. Then she started asking me what I was going to wear, only she did it with tact:
"Daddy, you look cool in your Spartech shirt with the collar."
Hmm, she is dressing me now huh? So upon waking the next morning, I remained in shorts until the last possible minute. She was freaking.
Then she starts offering to put somethings together for me, like a wheel sample, copies of magazines I'd written articles for etc. I finally had to tell her to back off and let me get ready.
So as I ate breakfast I looked at the things I was supposed to cover. It looked easy enough.
Reagan and I carpooled to school and she quickly ditched me for her friends. Cool, just like when I was back in middle school. I was corralled to the library with the other career-havers, only they all had stuff. At this point, I became aware I'd forgotten my bag of props and had literally nothing with me. One guy wheeled stuff in a giant bag, another was a soldier in full dress, a lawyer had a briefcase. All of a sudden, I felt completely unpreparred to talk about myself.
Then I glance down at the list of whos-who and everyones job sounds more interesting than mine. Everyones. It was going to be a long morning.
Luckily I started in Reagan's homeroom, so she was there to give me some pointers. "Remeber the rules, Daddy." Great pressure from her too.
Soon the bell rang and my first class was under way. I recited how awesome it is to do what I do, actually believing it. Then the questions started flying. Um, I didn't pay attention in middle school (or elementary, or high school, or college...) why are they? There were actually some tough questions.
At one point, I was explaining something and used Reagan's dislike of spinach as an example (I have no idea now how this fits into me explaining my sales or writing career, but just go with me) and after I finish, the wounded Reagan spouts off, "if you are such a great world traveller, how did you get stuck in an elevator in Sao Paulo, Brazil?" Busted.
I stumble through the story and made everyone giggle. Reagan sat back with a satisfied smile on her face.
Then came class #2, there would be 4 in all. The incoming students had give-a-ways from the other career-ers. What the #$#@? Seriously? Clearly the career folks read my blog and cited #3 and #4 ideas (bring candy and money). I'd been scoped.
So I reach for my shirt buttons and decide I'll one up them and go straight to #5 - Mr. Incredible Costume. Only I forgot to put it on.
Feeling at I am at a serious disadvantage with the kids, I livin the stories up about my international mishaps. The drinking of snake blood in Taiwan, the fight I got into in the stands at a German soccer game...
At the end, I felt pretty good. I don't think I convinced anyone to become a sales person or writer. But, they all know now how not to get stuck in an elevator in Brazil and that has made all the difference.
photo: from Reagan's Destination Imagination thingy a couple of weeks ago.
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