“I just got fired,” I told my son, David, Jr. when he called.
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“Yep,” I confirmed the bad news.
“Eli Benson just fired me from driving him to school.”
We both laughed.
Eli is my grandson in second-grade.
He had spent the night with us, and upon waking, he decided it would be a good idea to stay home from school.
We were suspicious, but Lori took his temperature to make sure. He passed the health check: no temperature, cough, nausea, sore throat, or headache.
“He’s fine,” Lori said, giving me the thumbs up to take him to school.
Eli was hoping for another nurse, perhaps a more naïve one.
Shuffling into my car with a scowl on his face, Eli crossed his arms and didn’t say a word as I drove him to school, despite my best efforts for conversation.
“Just tell Mr. Reid I’m sick,” Eli suggested, as we slowed to the drop off at his school.
I refused, of course, reminding Eli that his Gigi had taken his temperature, and he was fine.
Eli growled to me, “PopPop, I never want you to take me to school again, EVER.”
“Okay,” I said.
And that’s how I got fired.
I suppose kids have learned during the COVID-19 crisis that the slightest health complaint might keep them from school. It makes perfect sense: when children are symptomatic, they don’t need to be around others. I’m grateful for the school’s diligence in protecting the children.
As an adjunct instructor, I fill out a health assessment before teaching my class at Campbellsville University. I’ve had to take the COVID test, and I wear a mask while teaching my students, who practice social distancing in the classroom. I show the app on my phone that screens me before entering a building, so that should I test positive for COVID, health care workers can trace who I may have exposed. Yes, I am grateful for the precautions.
But then, kids being kids catch on to the “get out of school” angle. I probably would have done the same thing.
When my daughter, Madi, Eli’s mom, asked him about his “firing” of PopPop, Eli responded in typical 8-year-old fashion, “Well, PopPop started it.” We all chuckled.
Then Eli added, “But PopPop is still fired.”
We smiled again, shaking our heads.
Then my daughter, Mary, came for a visit from New York City, and Eli forgot about suspending me from driving duties.
With Mary in the passenger seat and Eli in the back, we talked about the day, and I told Mary we usually play Crowder, the contemporary Christian artist, on the way.
I cranked up the volume with Eli’s favorite Crowder song, “Run Devil Run.”
As we approached the school building, I prayed for Eli like I always do, and gave him a mini pep talk before dropping him off.
“PopPop,” Eli announced, “You’re unfired.”
“Okay,” I said, “but I’m still not going to tell Mr. Reid you’re sick if you’re not. Deal?”
“Deal,” Eli said, agreeing to my terms.
As Mr. Reid greeted Eli, I thanked the Lord for the years I got to take my kids to school, and for the memories we still share of all those commutes. Each trip included a prayer, my personal note of encouragement for each child, whatever positive words I had for the day, and music—usually, but not always, contemporary Christian songs.
Watching Eli disappear into the school building, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Was it me, or was it Crowder that got me my chauffer’s position back?”
Either way, I’ll take it, along with all the benefits that come with this temporary job. I couldn’t wait to call Lori and break the news: “I’m unfired.”