It’s Father’s Day this weekend, so I’m going to talk about my father, whom I actually don’t talk to very much. It’s not that we have a bad relationship – we’re just very Asian that way.
My dad usually replies with a grunt whenever I say bye before stepping out of the house. It’s the same grunt I receive when I come back home from work and greet him with just one word – Pa. It might seem a little strange, but my dad shows his love in other ways. Like a packet of beehoon on Saturday mornings, which have now become my de facto breakfast craving after a night out.
That said, he once casually asked me over lunch what I did for work. At that point, I’d already been at my current job for two years.
When I first told my dad about this assignment, his first reaction was concern.
“Did you get into trouble at work? Did HR tell you that you shouldn’t be wearing clothes like that to work?”
I was flabbergasted. First of all, my dressing isn’t that abhorrent and second of all, I work for a magazine. Being able to wear crop tops to the office is just one of the perks of the job.
“No, Pa. It’s for a Father’s Day story that I’m working on, can you just help me hit my KPIs please.”
A wide grin spread across my dad’s sun-aged face. “OK. Let me show you how it’s done. You don’t know how to fashion one,” he declared.
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