Wednesday, July 11, 2007
son of a..
My father is a mechanic. He has long since retired but once a mechanic, always a mechanic. At one time he was a Fleet Supervisor (head mechanic) for the largest bottler of the #2 cola in the US. However his plant was located deep within enemy territory and twice a year I'd have to go on a field trip into the enemy's main camp. Once as a school field trip and then a second time with the Cub Scouts. After three trips I decided it was time to show my pride in my Dad so despite the rather warm weather I wore a light jacket that contained my Dad's company's logo emblazoned upon it. I think my teacher rolled her eyes but said nothing at my little protest but my fellow fifth graders assured me that the Enemy would not be amused. Sure enough the sharp eyed offical greeter spotted me as I stepped down from the bus onto terra firma. He put his arm out, stopping my progess and looked down at me, first with a stern look, but then he gave me a quick grin and allowed me to pass, thus relieving my sudden fear of being shuttled off to a debriefing room. When we moved, Dad got a new job with a local coop and I made peace with the Enemy soda. Years later, when I moved back to my hometown I ran into an old classmate. During our conversation he mentioned that his mother always remembered me because I was extremely polite but she always had to make sure she bought some Pepsi anytime I visited. I laughed, not recalling myself as being that stubborn about anything as a kid. Since then I have pretty much converted to the enemy's side when it comes to grabbing a Cola, usually the Diet one. And I don't think Dad's former employer misses my allegience one bit.