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The Employer Handbook Blog
I don’t know about you, but I had the best Presidents Day ever!!!
Oh yes, something awesome happened yesterday!
[cue music]
So, I’m at Barnes & Noble yesterday with three of my kids as the fourth was next door getting her ears pierced with my wife. I’m minding my own business, while the three for whom I’m responsible are occupying themselves with legos, Nooks, and the occasional book. I set the bar low for myself. If I’m in a bookstore with my kids, and no books get destroyed (or flagged), then I’ve done my job as a parent. Once again, I over-delivered. Gold star for dad, and that deserves a reward.
So, as I’m thinking about how to reward myself as Father of the Year, I see shelves of these Funko Pop! Vinyls. And, I’m giving them no mind, when…this catches my eye. Then, this. And then, this! By this point, I’ve nearly completed my metamorphosis from awesome dad and hella-cool employment-law blogger to nerd. And, for all I know, my kids could’ve flagged ten books and set the store on fire. Did I care? Nope.
***adjusts pocket protector; sips Yoo-hoo!***
If spotting awesome vinyl figures is anything like draining putts at The Masters — which, I’m told, it is — then, I was most definitely in the zone. I was like an in-his-prime Tiger Woods destroying his competition, except, my links were these glorious shelves of toys action figures in a brick-and-mortar bookstore, which, until yesterday, I wasn’t sure existed anymore. God bless those bricklayers and cement masons who laid those bricks and spread that mortar. Union or non-union, I’m forever in your debt.
Indeed, I was nearing a course record. And, that’s when I spotted him: Axl Rose.
[cue music]
And, to Axl’s immediate right, Duff McKagan. Duff McKagan! Are you kidding me?!? They might as well have had the “Darrin Stephens” Bewitched toy action figure — the Dick Sargent version.
[cue music]
So, we’ve got Axl, Duff, and, to Duff’s right…Father Gabriel.
[cue music]
Ok, admittedly, on any other day, I’d have given major props to a Father Gabriel toy action figure. I mean, of all The Walking Dead characters to feature. But, not yesterday.
Where was Slash? I saw Screech and Q-Bert and Mr. Peabody. BUT WHERE WAS SLASH???? I just had to complete the — it’s about to get very sacrilegious in here in 3…2… — Holy Trinity.
Except, there was no Slash. To boot, my fourth child then materialized, beaming pierced ear to pierced ear, with my wife. Alas, it was time to go. And I’m like… Wait, that made no sense. I’m like…
Why had you forsaken me, God? Why?!? (oh, sorry, more sacrilege)
[cue music]
So, I do the slow walk out of B&N. As I cross the parking lot, I begin to feel the wave washing over me. I’m even thinking to myself, “That was silly, Eric. You don’t need Guns N’ Roses toys action figures. You’re a grown man. You passed the bar. You have a blog. You have clients who pay you for legal services.”
When, like clockwork…
“Dad, I have to go potty.”
“I asked you five times in the store if you needed to go potty. You were grabbing yourself the whole time. Why didn’t you–“
“Dad, I have to go potty.”
“Fine. Let’s go back in the store.”
“Dad, I have to go to the potty too.”
“Of course you do. Let’s go.”
Back across the parking lot to B&N, into the store, up an aisle where they have actual books, to the bathroom in the rear of the store. Where, I’m happy to report, we had dry ingress and egress for both. So, there’s that: two small victories. Then, it was time to head back to the car.
Well, perhaps it was the waning tunnel vision — a symptom of getting two children with full bladders incident-free from Point A to Point B — or maybe good things coming in threes, or just plain ole divine intervention (yep, there I go again), but something caught my eye on the way out of B&N. For, as we traversed the store, I saw another shelf of Funko Pop! Vinyls.
Wait, you don’t think…
“Hold up for a second kids, daddy’s gotta—“
[cue music]
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***Yoink***
Whereupon, the following conversation immediately ensued:
“Daddy, are you buying toys?”
“Action figures, dear.”
“Who are you buying them for?“
“Um. Me.”
“Daddy, do each of us get one of those toys?”
“No.”
“But…”
“They’re daddy’s.”
“Can I see one?”
“See with your eyes. Not with your hands.”
They continued talking on the way to the checkout, but I was like… Whereupon, this happened:
Cashier: “Those are great.”
Me: “I mean. How could I not?”
Cashier: “For sure. Are you a Barnes and Noble rewards member?”
Me: “My wife is. Does that count?”
Son: “Dad, can I have one?”
Me: ***glares***
Cashier: “Here’s an extra 20% off.”
Me: “It’s like you’re practically paying me to take these. I’m putting them in my office. I’m a lawyer. At a real law firm.”
Speaking of which, if you came here today looking for law stuff, well, what can I tell you? Except, you just got nearly 900 words on how I acquired my Guns N’ Roses toys action figures, thereby making my Monday infinitely better than yours. Law stuff tomorrow. Hopefully
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to arrange my Guns N’ Roses toys action figures on my desk.
[….and cue music!]