Home > Life Lessons > I want my hotdog.

I want my hotdog.

I didn’t really have any theme planned for today’s post, but I don’t want my aunt to think I’m sick or dying or anything, so I know I have to write something so she has a post to read during her morning cup of coffee.

Writing about Father Bob yesterday, one of the stories I didn’t share was about my hotdog.

Once I started to work with Father Bob post-graduation, he was often eager to remind me that I’m such a nice and sweet person…until I want something! And 99% of the time, I get what I want. Even if it means e-mailing and calling a person every day and reminding them of what I need whenever I see them.

In recent years (after my Dad shared the hotdog story with him when FB told my parents of this trait), Father Bob would remind me “You always want your hotdog!”

You see, when I was 5 or 6 years old, my family visited Mystic Seaport in Conn. Dad had heard rave reviews of the lobster at Abbot’s. The family had to go.

Well, in my young age, I didn’t really like the idea of cracking open a giant bug and eating it’s insides. I, instead, wanted a hotdog.

After everyone ordered, my entire family sat down with steaming lobsters and oyster crackers. “It’ll be just a minute for the hotdog” we were told.

Halfway through their lobsters, and when I was halfway through all the oyster crackers, my father went to ask about the weiner.

“We just have to boil it. It’ll be just a minute”

Ok. But really, shouldn’t lobster take longer to cook than pre-processed…well, I don’t really know (or want to know) what it is.

After all the lobsters (and oyster crackers) were finished…and I was FAMISHED from walking around all morning (my father didn’t believe in sleeping in on vacation…or well, really any other time), I was nearly in tears from hunger.

My father took me with him to the window…in tears…to ask about my hotdog.

Guess what?

It wasn’t ready.

Realizing that we could probably get a hotdog faster if we simply walked to another restaurant, my father laid some stern words on the cooks about his starving daughter, and DRAGGED me away (I was really hungry) to get a hotdog AND icecream nearby.

This experience was rather formative in my life. Whenever I would have to deal with insurance companines, realtors, banks, Sears… really anything I wanted…I would always tell my father (after venting frustrations) “I want my hotdog!!!”

And like my father, I try to be calm and polite the first time or two I have to ask, but when it gets frustrating, I try stern and throw out that word “unacceptable”…but if I don’t get my way, I take my business elsewhere.

But I always get my hotdog.

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  1. Jeannine
    September 5, 2010 at 11:28 am

    You go git yer hot dog!

    And yeah, I grew up near Abbotts. Never been. Andrew either. When we ever make it, we will certainly not get the hot dog!!!!!!!

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