The first time my father’s world collapsed, it was because my mother died. The second time it happened, a patch of ice was to blame.
A little background: Part, if not all, of my reason for rejecting my father’s suggestion that I study business in college was the fact that he had already blazed that trail and I resented the idea of following in his footsteps, especially footsteps that had left such an indelible mark.
You see, my father was…a salesman, and growing up in his giant shadow, it was impossible for me not to think that he was perhaps the greatest salesman in the world. The family room in our house held the proof. Five Sam Dungee “Salesman of the Year” trophies stared down from the bookshelves, along with what seemed a museum’s worth of other sales trophies, plaques, framed certificates, and photographs of my father receiving bonus checks from a revolving door of happy executives. Everywhere I looked, evidence of his remarkable career was all around.
Just as remarkable was the fact that my father was content not moving …show more content…
Taking his hand away, he looked at it, relieved that there was no blood. Fiddling with his keys, he got the door open and made it behind the steering wheel where he just sat, feeling weary and foolish. After awhile, he started the car and waited for the heater to get going. Then he drove to the Radisson where he had a reservation for the night and checked into his room.
Not surprisingly, he had a headache and a nasty bump on the back of his head. He took three extra-strength Tylenol, fixed an ice pack, then got into bed in front of the television and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, the TV was still on.
The bump on his head was still quite sore, but at least there was no more headache. He took a shower, packed his bags, and drove to the first of the customer appointments that he’d scheduled for the
A little background: Part, if not all, of my reason for rejecting my father’s suggestion that I study business in college was the fact that he had already blazed that trail and I resented the idea of following in his footsteps, especially footsteps that had left such an indelible mark.
You see, my father was…a salesman, and growing up in his giant shadow, it was impossible for me not to think that he was perhaps the greatest salesman in the world. The family room in our house held the proof. Five Sam Dungee “Salesman of the Year” trophies stared down from the bookshelves, along with what seemed a museum’s worth of other sales trophies, plaques, framed certificates, and photographs of my father receiving bonus checks from a revolving door of happy executives. Everywhere I looked, evidence of his remarkable career was all around.
Just as remarkable was the fact that my father was content not moving …show more content…
Taking his hand away, he looked at it, relieved that there was no blood. Fiddling with his keys, he got the door open and made it behind the steering wheel where he just sat, feeling weary and foolish. After awhile, he started the car and waited for the heater to get going. Then he drove to the Radisson where he had a reservation for the night and checked into his room.
Not surprisingly, he had a headache and a nasty bump on the back of his head. He took three extra-strength Tylenol, fixed an ice pack, then got into bed in front of the television and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, the TV was still on.
The bump on his head was still quite sore, but at least there was no more headache. He took a shower, packed his bags, and drove to the first of the customer appointments that he’d scheduled for the