Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo spent some time this evening overseeing Eldest Gel as she filled out her very first W-4 form.  She’s got a gig with a local smoothie shop and will be putting in some hours over Christmas break mostly with an eye to cementing the position for this summah.

On the Stern Old Dad side, I must say that I think this kind of lower-tier service job is absolutely crucial to the development of the young people, especially those, like mine, who have lead relatively comfortable (dare I say spoiled?) lives heretofore.  Show ’em a thing or two about the Real World and give ’em some appreciation and respect for those who have to do such dog work.  (Ol’ Robbo himself spent time working as a bag boy at a golf club and as a counter guy in a supermarket deli back in the day.  My habit of over-tipping in restaurants and hotels is a direct result.)

On the Cynic side, I was amused at the Gel’s reaction to dealing with the paperwork: “They want my address AGAIN? I just wrote it on the other sheet!  How many times do I have to repeat it?”

My reply: “At least once more than you think necessary.  Because that’s what gubmint does.”

Heh.

 

Advertisements