A Helping Hand

It was late on a Friday night when I heard my parents arguing. It always happened whenever they were getting ready to throw a big party. My mother played the role of party planner and handled all of the details, but between caterers, musicians, and the other help something always went haywire. My father would get upset that something wasn't perfect and they would spend the days leading up to the party yelling at each other. Normally I would steer clear of their arguments but this time sounded more heated than most so I decided to intervene to see if I could calm things down a little.

"What going on guys?"

"Don't worry about it son. Your mother is just trying to ruin our big spring party."

"Me? How does this have anything to do with me?"

"Well, you're in charge of getting the help."

"It's not my fault that Martine is leaving the country!"

"You must have known about this for months. Why don't you just get someone else to fill in."

"You don't think I've tried? The party is next weekend and on this short notice everybody is booked up. We'll just have to set up the appetizers on a buffet table."

"Buffet table? What do you think this is? We can't have our guests serve themselves. You need to get someone to serve the food and clean up after everyone. Or else the party is off, end of story!"

"So you guys need some help for the party next weekend?" I cautiously entered the fray.

"I'll think of something."

"I could use some extra money, how much does the job pay?"

"You? No son of mine will be seen serving food at my party!"

"Why not? I can wear a tux, I'll fit right in with the other help."

"No way!"

My father is very old fashioned in his ways. His family made their fortune building railroads in the west and have been a part of high society ever since. Generations of selective breeding and grooming have left his side of the family very inflexible in their ways and I've learned over the years to back down when he really gets angry. This was one of those times.