Excuse me, Mr. Taco Bell Guy:

I don’t know you from Adam. You could be filming an episode of Undercover Boss, and for all I know you could be intellectually ripped behind that G.E.D. exterior. Even though you couldn’t change a register tape without assistance, it’s possible you could be a Fortune 500 CEO in disguise.

You certainly were polite, enthusiastic and tried to do your best. I get that. But if you temporarily gave up your Benz to slum in the trenches, you had me fooled. Perhaps it was the extra long hair, the immature mannerisms or the fact that I had to repeat my order to you four times.

So Mr. Taco Bell Guy, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but my son was watching. I still treated you with respect. Didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t outwardly display my irritation. Although, I might have burst an artery if I had to explain what a fresco Steak Burrito Supreme was one more time.

So I used you as an object lesson. Put you up as Exhibit A on what could happen if you cut your education short. My son and I had barely sat down to eat when I broached the subject to him.

“What if this is where it ends,” I asked him. What if this is the end of the road because somebody failed to get all the education and training they could?

Don’t let hot or mild sauce be your legacy in the world was my message to my son. Build your credentials with something else besides expert sour cream gun shooter.

Again, TBG, this may be a brief stop for you on your way up. It could be hard times and this is the only way to bring in some money for the family. Hey, you’re here instead of immersed in World of Warcraft right?

But my son was watching and I saw a teaching moment. I need every one of those opportunities I can get.

If you helped my son reach higher for his potential some day, then thank you. That means much more than eventually getting my order right.

Regards,

Mike