I tend to avoid day shifts.
As a night owl, waking up anytime before noon is unappealing, if not goddamn impossible. Today, however, I opened at the wee early morning hour of 11am, with nothing but two hours of sleep and a jug of Dunkin Donuts coffee in me.
James was the first person I saw. A nine-to-five staffer who sports a rowdy mustache, James plays in a punk band, and has even recently gotten married and purchased his first home. He sat at the bar and popped a question.
“What was the exact moment you felt like or knew you were a grown-up?”
Unsure, I answer: “When I bought my first vacuum cleaner. And when I found myself getting excited about buying curtains and curtain rods.” After pondering it for a second, I added: “No, maybe it was when my parents transferred me my student loan debt. Or when I signed up for a Roth IRA.”
We both had to think about it. When was it? When did we go from carefree children to grown children with a lot of serious responsibility?
I spent the rest of the day contemplating James’s question. Then around 5pm when that figurative work whistle blew I hit the street, and spent every last dime I made during the early shift on ice cream for dinner. Because even if I don’t remember when it happened (my guess is during a blackout), I am, indeed, grown-up.
And grown-ups can have ice cream for dinner.
