My father called me tonight to talk about the latest political events in Italy. Apparently the majority of the Italian new generation voted for a comedian, considered the loudest - figuratively and not, as he does always shout - alternative political voice. For this reason, all newspapers are now recalling '68 movements and youth revolution, almost predicting a new one in Italy. Eventually, I believe this is not going to happen as our new generations' arses are way too lazy.
Moving on with the conversation I told him I am not happy at work and that I am looking for the job I really want to do, but there are many difficulties, bla bla bla, bring boring boring....
As always, he started with one of his anecdotes.
He had just completed his military service when he went home and he was jobless. My grandparents owned a small bakery at that time. His prospects were either delivering bottles of water door to door or working in one of the local factories. HE felt like this just wasn't enough for him. One evening, my grandfather went back home and told him a friend was looking for sales representatives. My dad started dreaming about driving around Italy on a nice car straight away.
Once at the job interview, the employer told him upfront this job would change his life, that he wouldn't be able to have dinner at home for 5 days a week and that the job was in Foggia (South of Italy, 6 or 7 hours drive away). "Did you make me come here to hire me or not? Because my intention is to get this job." my dad's answer was. And he got the job. He was really excited.
He went home to tell the good news but my grandfather wasn't that happy: "Foggia???? Where is Foggia???". He was in the back of the bakery making bread, quickly took the map out of a drawer and spread it on the table. "No you won't go! It's too far away! You know we could always provide for you. You'll come home for dinner!".
The job in Foggia didn't succeed anyway - I'm not sure why. Therefore, he got offered Tuscany. The job was exactly the same: he would leave on a Monday morning and come back on a Saturday afternoon.. but Tuscany is much closer than Foggia. This time my grandfather said it was fine.
We talked on the phone for one and a half hour. I even argued with him because he never lets me speak and he can never "understand" my reality as he mainly thinks statistically. Honestly, we just have huge communication issues. That phone call was so hard for me I've got way too much adrenaline in my body now and I can't sleep. However, eventually, he made me smile. Before hanging up he said: "We are a weird family but it's fine because we can get to grow our own tomatoes, I can come to London if I want to, you're getting cranky because you have a world to conquer.. It's good.. Because we can get to choose."
I miss my dad :)
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