Steak And Hamburgers
Disclaimer: Many of the stories are completely fictional. Other stories are fictional accounts of true stories. Other stories are completely true. Sometimes the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
It is sad to say, but there are people in this world who think that children are second class citizens. Back when I was growing up, we were constantly told that children should be seen and not heard.
My parents had the philosophy that children should be seen and not heard, but they also felt that whatever the parent was going to eat the children should be allowed to eat that, too.
That is to say that if the parent gets to eat lobster, so does the kid.
One day, one of the salesmen at my father’s company (NCR) was having a cookout. Everyone’s whole family was invited. My father was the sales manager and all the salesmen there were his direct reports.
This man and his wife had no kids and did not intend to have any.
We went to their apartment and the man cooked hamburgers out on the grill. They sat all the kids down at a picnic table and gave us hamburgers.
Then, the man started cooking steaks on the grill. The adults went inside and the kids were told to stay outside.
My father came back and picked my sister and me up in his arms and carried us inside.
While all the adults sat at the table, my sister and I sat on our father’s lap and he fed us steak off of his plate.
In a very strange sense of irony, the very next weekend the entire apartment building burnt down. The salesman and his wife had both parked their cars in the carport, where the week before they had set up the picnic table for us kids.
Both their cars, all their clothes, everything they owned except the clothes they were sleeping in were destroyed in the fire.
Karma is a -----, you know what word I mean.
ReplyDeleteThank you for dropping in and commenting. Yes, I know what word you mean. Like the old saying goes, "What goes around, comes around." It does seem like they got an awakening. I don't know if this changed them at all.
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