The phone rings...

... as I am driving home this evening. From the familiar ring tone, (set to Chinese Jingle) I know it is my Dad:


T: Hey Dad. What's up? How are you feeling?

D: Not bad. Have you eaten yet? (note: for those of you who don't already know, this is a very common way for Chinese people to say hello... don't ask me why)

T: Not yet, I'm on my way home now. What's going on?

D: This week is your pay day, right?

T: Yeah...

D: Make a copy of your paycheck!

T: Why?

D: As a souvenir.

T: (eyebrow raised) Do you want it?

D: No, so you can remember your first real paycheck.

T: Dad, I won't get a paycheck. They put it directly in the bank now.

D: Really? Because you work for the government? Then you don't know how much you get.

T: No, Dad. I get a paystub, it tells me how much I get, but the money goes straight into the bank. And I've had it done this way since in school.

D: Huh. I didn't know they did that... Well, make a copy of it anyway so you can remember.

T: Okay, Dad. The next time I'm home, I have to give you the book (my thesis) Goodnight. Talk to you soon.

D: Oh, good. Thank you. Talk to you soon.


It's cute that my Dad wants me to remember every little bit of my new experiences. He asks me a lot if I like the new job. I'm not sure he quite believes how much freedom I have... he's still under the impression that I have to punch a time-clock or something (which I do, sort of, but it's in an Excel spreadsheet). My Dad has always been part of the blue collar, unionized, time-card punching workforce. I think that the idea of me in an office job, where I don't have to punch a clock, makes him very happy. He seems to be whenever we talk about it.

It's cute.