Sticking It to the Man

Now that my children are adults, I admit that I take perverse pleasure in seeing them deal with the craziness of the grown up world.

I’ve heard them rail at the ridiculousness of the tax code. My response, “Yes, my dear child, it’s convoluted mumbo jumbo. The government doesn’t want you to understand the IRS forms—it supports a whole industry known as H&R Block.”

I’ve heard them deal with telemarketers. “No, we really don’t need ADT. We have a dog.” After hanging up, I’ve heard a particular child mumble, “That person claimed that you could incapacitate a dog with hairspray—how stupid is that? Don’t they know that (chemicals A, B, and C) won’t bother a dog?!” Yes, dear, telemarketers lie.

I’ve had to have them sitting next to me so I could talk to the financial aid department about my tax returns—they have to get on the phone and give permission at every step so the financial department doesn’t violate their right to privacy even though it’s about my tax return. Yes, dear, this is a waste of your time. Sorry. Cope.

One of my college seniors thinks the exit exams are ridiculous. I pointed out that the exams are just another hoop to jump through in the bureaucracy of life. This particular senior contemplated marking all the answers “C.” My husband said, “So, would that be your way of sticking it to the man?” I burst into peals of laughter. “Sticking it to the man? Seriously?” My husband and I fist bumped and laughed until tears nearly streamed down our faces.

Our kids are now convinced that Cal and I are insane. I suspect that they’re wheeling and dealing to see who gets stuck with the crazed parents. Poor Ariel, I’m afraid she’s going to get the short straw.