“There you go, sir.”
It wasn’t the sir that she used. People call me sir, all the time. Casually without affection; in fact they call every male, sir —- from McDonalds to Starbucks. Thank you, sir. Here’s your change, sir. 
Have a good day, sir.
It wasn’t the sir — not at all, I don’t even hear that any longer — it was that after saying it, she waited for my answer. She just stood there and waited.
The bar was busy but not the way a commercial bar would have been. It was busy like a Country Club bar is — which is exactly what it was. There weren’t people leaning over the wooden top, waving paper money in order to get a Budweiser longneck and get back to the pool table. No. These were Country Club people. Successful people — and Southern, Country Club, successful people — so it was different. It was patient and elegant and relaxed.
And hey, I’m not a total buffoon when it coms to this stuff. I’ve been to some elite places in my life — five star restaurants, exclusive resorts, yacht clubs, executive ranches, mountain retreats, Country Clubs — none of which I did — or could have — paid for myself, of course. That’s not the point. But all of them work venues. All business trips. I’ve gone a lot of places. But not on my own.
And I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to see the places I have but it means that I’ve been there and my family has not. In fact, outside of our one and only trip to Key West when we were first married, twenty-two years ago, my wife and I have never been on a flight together. Ever. I have not been on one with the kids either — oh, we’ve taken countless car trips, too many to count, but never a flight.
I’ve been to Iceland, San Francisco, Luxembourg, all through Canada, the Bahamas, Las Vegas, 39 of the lower 48 States. All for business. All without my family.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?”
And that was the question. And that’s when she waited for my answer.
There were a few of us there that night that were not club members; we had all came to the office for a few days of meetings and one of the owners of our company, Paul, wanted to take us all out to dinner. Just something casual. Just a quick meal at the club.
Now it’s important to note that there is nothing pompous or arrogant about Paul — there usually aren’t about self-made men. He is kind person who became very successful through hard work and smart, solid business decisions and I have nothing but respect for him. But there is always a mental switch that gets flipped — whether by ego or fear — when you step into another man’s life and look around. Especially when it’s a successful one. The yardstick is out and the self-examination has begun.
Chris — Paul’s son — was sitting at the bar laughing. Chris is one of the Directors of the company and no, he was not given that position by birthright but earned every aspect of it. He’s young — somewhere in the late twenties to early thirties area — sharp, hardworking and grew up coming to this very Country Club. Chris was reluctant to come to dinner tonight because he has a complete day of presentations to orchestrate for tomorrow and then he is taking Friday off to fly to Miami with a young lady for the weekend — just shooting down to Miami for a few days. The same way that I would just shoot over to Wal-Mart or maybe, on a whim, jet to the park with Alex and pitch some horseshoes.
Will my son’s, Nick and Alex, ever sit at a Country Club like this and wonder if they have time to get back to their condo on the James River and get packed before a quick weekend away in the sun? At lunch will they compare who the best fly fishing guides in Mexico are and why Oktoberfest in Munich is so much better than the one in Belgium?
Probably not. That life is as foreign to them as it is to me. But what disadvantages do they have because of that? How many steps back on the game board have I started them out with, because I haven’t provided that? If I had worked harder? If I was smarter? Could I have gotten them here? Could I have gotten us here? And how much happier would we all be?
But then —? Would I want this for them or would I want it for the ego of providing it for them?
And this — this type of thinking — is exactly what happens when you start to compare lives. We feel successful when we learn a High School rival hasn’t worked in three years, but we feel lazy when another one just sold his company to Google.
So when is it okay? — as a father, as a husband, as a man — when is the right time to take enjoyment in what we’ve provided for our families and say, yeah, that was enough? — not to be complacent but to be grateful? Not to label or measure a life by points but to shrug off the ego and just — and just enjoy it?
Is this something you do only when you are 81 years old? Is it lazy to do it at 51?
“Can I get you anything else, sir?”
And although there were other customers at the bar she needed to get to, she just stood there. Smiling at me and waiting. She would not go away. She would not release me if there was anything else I needed. The others could wait. If I wanted a guitar string or a car battery or the lyrics to a Beetles song, she would leave and get it for me before moving on to the next customer.
She just waited.
“Well,” I said, smiling. “I’ll let you know.”
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