I thought Eileen and I handled oursevles pretty well. It was late last night and Scout, nose buried in facebook, blurts out, “This is the best idea!” We were intrigued but cautious. Often a teenager’s idea of the “best idea” is radically different from a parent’s idea.
“I need to go to bartender school!”
It is at times like these that I remember just how lucky we all are that thought balloons are not visible to the naked eye.
“When I go to Boston in September for college, I’ll need a job. Do you know how much money you can make as a bartender?”
Actually, I have no idea.
I glance at Eileen. I am hoping she can hold herself back. I see her take a deep breath and begin.
Eileen: “Why do you need a job, honey?”
Scout: “I can’t live off of you guys. I need to have a job.”
Good point Scout, I thought. Then I remember the 2 weeks she worked at Abercrombie. A teenager’s nightmare. 25 hours a week of tidying clothes. It didn’t work out very well.
Eileen: “And besides, won’t you have homework at college?”
Scout: (showing enormous restraint) “Not every night Mom”
Watch out Eileen, I thought. This is dangerous territory. And besides, I think we focused the college search only on those schools that emphasized the value of in-class learning. Scout does best in an environment where she can impress the hell out of her teachers during class thus exonerating her from any real homework responsibility. Worked for her for the last four years. She has a proven track record.
Eileen realizes she may be veerying into trouble. She tries a new tack.
Eileen: “You know, it wouldn’t have to be at a bar. You could work for a caterer.”
Scout: “EXACTLY!”
Wow. I’m so impressed with Eileen. I am SO not there.
Eileen: “In fact, I think my brother worked as a bartender during college. I think he made very good money and liked it.”
Scout: “SEE?”
Wait. I think Eileen has gone too far in the other direction. I feel a need to weigh in.
Joan: “You’d have to be cautious to find a place to work where sketchy drunk guys wouldn’t hit on you.”
They both ignored my comment. It was like I was invisible in the room. I guess we all knew that I was stating the obvious. And before I knew it, the conversation peetered out – Scout and Eileen were off on a new conversation.
I’m sure that was not the end of it. On or just after Scout’s 18th birthday, I will be asked to write the $360 check for the weeklong bartender schoool (I’ll save $40 if Scout invites her friend Anna to join too). Scout tells me she could jump on an airplane and bartend her way through Europe next summer.
Oh joy. Drunken guys hitting on my daughter in foreign languages.
OK, I know there are wonderful, high end restaurants and hotels all over the world. Classy places where Scout would make a great bartender. She would look the part, she would enjoy the social nature of the job and she’d like being in charge. She wouldn’t have to get up early (a key requirement of any responsibility Scout will have) and she probably could make some money. And yes, that would be a good thing.
That is my rational voice. But that is not the voice speaking to me.
The voice speaking to me is the voice of the bouncer at Hooters.
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