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“My first job, I did. I was learning and knew there was a lot of grunt work I’d have to do. But it never ended. I’d gotten two title changes, but they were only title and money, not really responsibility. I didn’t feel like they were giving me the work I could do.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Some people micromanage. And other people are afraid to train someone else and worry their job would be stolen out from under them.”
“I’m glad I don’t deal with that bull crap. Though my first job was with a union and I just didn’t care for that mentality. It works for some and not others.”
“What about it bothered you?”
“I just wanted to work. The unions like having power so they tell you how much work to do in a day. If we got a job done two hours early, I wanted to move on to the next one or do something else. They’d say no, we’d met our obligation, just kill two hours.”
It drove him nuts to do that and sit around shooting the shit. He’d rather learn and stay busy.
When he’d ask if he could work, they rode his ass about being a suck-up or making waves.
He’d learned you didn’t cross the union and had enough.
“I’ve heard of those things before,” she said. “Not sure I’d like that either, but there are plenty of people who don’t mind it. Gives them a light day or something.”
“Something like that,” he said. “When I was looking to leave I had to figure out what to do. It was my father who suggested I start my own business.”
“I’m glad he supported and encouraged you,” she said.
He had to weigh his words. “He helped me. I decided this would be a good area and I had a place to live and not worry about those costs. I had money put away and started my business. That first year things were tight, but I wasn’t starving. Slowly my name got out there and the next thing I know I’m hiring a few people to keep up on the jobs.”
“Do you want to continue to expand?” she asked.
“I haven’t decided. I don’t want my whole life to be about my job or work. I saw what my father was like.”
It was a complaint his mother had that was the truth. His father worked a lot. If he wasn’t teaching a class at Yale, he was leading groups or tutoring students. He was giving guest lectures. He was writing articles for journals. You name it, he was doing it.
“Did he just love what he did?” she asked.
“That was it more than anything. I think he loved it more than he loved my mother.”
“Or he knew what your mother was doing and was trying to fill a gap with his career and you just got lost in their drama?”
Knox had never thought of it that way. Looking back, his father did start to work more when there were rumors his mother was finding someone else to spend time with. Then when his mother left, that was when his father really dove into more of his career at Yale.
He’d just thought it was required of his father there. Maybe it was.
It didn’t matter much at this point.
“Who knows?” he said. “And I need to flip the steaks.”
“I’ll check the potatoes and we’ll get back to this.”
He walked out to the patio, opened the top of the grill, flipped the steaks over and came back when Sage was starting the microwave again.
“Just another six minutes,” he said.
“The potatoes will be less than that. I wanted to say that if it bothers you to talk about your father, you don’t have to, but sometimes I think maybe you need to.”
His head went back and forth. “I think you’re right and that I need to. I’ve never had anyone I felt I could.”
“You’ve not dated anyone and talked about your father?” she asked.
“I have dated but didn’t get to be serious with any of them.”
