Straight From the Handbook
Sunday night, Biggy and I had a serious sit-down with Jack. We were actually standing in the kitchen while he put about $18 worth of blackberries in the blender to make himself a smoothie, but whatever. We needed to lay down some new ground rules for summer, which included breaking the bad news:
Biggy: You need to find a job.
Jack: How can I work?! I've got summer school, drum line practice, judo...
TR: Hello! We were in band and we had jobs. Not to mention, I ran track, was in Beta Club, kept score for the JV basketball team, and still managed to fit in an impressive amount of binging-and-purging.
Jack: Well, I have a life.
Biggy: Here's your life: First of all, you sleep till 11. And then you go to school, which lasts until, what, 2:00?
Jack: Anyway, there's nowhere around here for me to work.
TR: You could bag groceries at Publix.
Jack: I'M NOT WORKING AT PUBLIX!
TR: It's good enough for your friend Ian.
Jack: He's Canadian.
TR: Figure it out. You've got three weeks to get a job. Be ready to start as soon as summer school's out.
So, this morning at 7, as I'm getting ready for work, my cell phone rings. It's Jack, calling from his bed: "Could you leave me some gas money?"