Page 73 of It's Complicated

“I don’t need a degree for my job.”

He shot me an exasperated look.

“I don’t,” I continued. “I have plenty of options for upgrading my skill set that don’t require college, and I like my job. Getting a degree would be a waste of time for me.”

“Have you utilized any of these so-called options to upgrade your skills?”

“Yes, several.”

He blinked at me, obviously not expecting that answer.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic,” I said, repeating the same script I always did when he brought up my job. “It’s a skilled trade with lots of growth potential and a growing market. It’ll always be an in-demand job, so even if I run into issues with job security in the future, I’ll be better off than most people because there will always be jobs open for people with my skills.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic.” Dad gave me an unimpressed look. “But even with all these opportunities to upgrade your skills, you’re still just a guy in a garage. Don’t you have any drive or ambition to be more? Openyour own garage, or maybe transfer to the manufacturing side and get a foot in the corporate door.”

“I’m not a corporate kind of guy.”

“Clearly.” He sipped his drink.

I left mine untouched. I didn’t like bourbon, and my father knew that. But he drank bourbon, so he always ordered me one, then drank it himself when I didn’t.

“Not everyone needs to be a manager or in a corporate setting. Not everyone can own a shop or run a business. And not everyone wants that. I’m happy where I am now. Maybe that will change in the future and I’ll want something different, but until it does, I’m not going to waste my time getting a degree I have no plans on using.”

I braced for a tirade, but Dad just sighed.

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” He traced his finger over the rim of his glass. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I am too.” He stopped toying with his glass. “I hoped things might be different this time, but it’s obvious you’re never going to change.”

“Not in the ways you want me to.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then I guess I really don’t have another choice.”

“What do you mean? What don’t you have a choice about?” I asked, confused by the shift in his demeanor.

This was usually the part where he lectured me. This resigned acceptance was weird.

He looked at his watch. “I’ve invited someone to join us.”

“Who?” I glanced at the empty place setting beside him. It wasn’t a mix-up?

“I asked you here because I have something to tell you,” he started, ignoring my question.

“You do?” So he really did have news, and this wasn’t just an excuse to lecture me?

“Of course. I said as much in my email.”

“You say that in every email, but you rarely have anything new to share.”

“Well, this time is different.”

Was he telling me he was retiring? But why would that matter to me? My dad was very successful at his job, but he didn’t own the company or have any sort of stake in it to pass down. When he retired, someone else would take his place and the company would continue to run like nothing happened.

“I’m getting married.”

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