After 20 years in a career in HR with the school board, I managed to score myself an honourable title today. I feel humble, I feel proud, I feel like some brace-faced over achieving teenager at McDonald’s that has scored herself the plaque next to the check out. Yes, today, folks, I was informed that not only had I been nominated but also chosen as the EY temp of the month.
So it is dinner time and Rick and I are sipping on some champagne that we snagged the last time we were in Calais, France, and I have the case of the giggles. It could be the bubbles, or that Chan is also getting a hair cut from Rick and has just announced that he wants to be able to cut a slice through his eyebrow cause that is the cool thing to do. And I remind Rick that at least the boy isn’t asking to get a tattoo or some obnoxious piercing or plays loud durgy music while he buries himself in his dark room for hours. Just let him try it, I say. What is the big deal? At least he isn’t poking pencils in his earlobes and experimenting with dread locks that end up looking like Side Show Bob (I am referring to our beloved Jackson, of course) on crack.
And they head back upstairs and the clippers buzz again and I hear them beaking at each other like they so often do. And when Chan returns back downstairs to show me the end result, I say hey that is interesting, it looks like you have only half an eyebrow now. And he looks disappointed. I think he was hoping for something more dramatic, more impactful, more well, and the giggles set in. I know I shouldn’t laugh at him but it really does look like he is missing a chunk of his brow. But I don’t care, he likes it. It is his choice.
So maybe I haven’t been promoted to head of HR or scored the book deal that I thought I would, but at least my efforts have been recognized.
And with that in mind, I suck up my chuckles and comment on how cool the zip in his forehead looks and then he scoots back upstairs feeling pleased.
Oh yes, and I dyed my hair red. Chan picked out the colour.
