During Dinner, My Brother Said, “Your Kid Can Only Work Cleaning Jobs.” Everyone Laughed…
A Bitter Dessert
The comment came during dessert right after mom brought out her famous apple pie.
My brother Marcus leaned back in his chair, wine glass in hand, surveying the table like he owned it, which in a way he did.
This was his house, his dinner party, his moment to shine in front of the extended family.
“So David,”
Marcus said, looking at my 17-year-old son,
“what are your plans after high school? Got any big dreams?”
My son hesitated, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth.
“I’m thinking about community college first then maybe transferring. I want to study business management.”
The table went quiet then Marcus laughed that booming laugh he’d perfected over years of closing deals and dominating boardrooms.
“Community college?”
He repeated, shaking his head.
“Let me give you some real talk kid. With your grades and your background, you’re looking at cleaning jobs, janitorial work, maybe landscaping if you’re lucky.”
“That’s just reality. No shame in it, but let’s not pretend you’re heading for some big corporate career.”
The Brutal Truth
My sister Jennifer snorted into her napkin, trying to hide her laugh but failing.
“Marcus, you’re terrible,”
She said, smiling.
“I’m just being realistic,”
Marcus continued.
“These kids today all think they’re going to be CEOs but somebody has to do the actual work right? The manual labor, that’s where most people end up.”
My cousin Jake nodded along.
“He’s got a point.”
Dad looked down at his plate, uncomfortable but silent.
Mom suddenly became very interested in cutting her pie into smaller pieces.
Marcus’s wife nodded sympathetically, patting my hand like I was the one who needed consoling.
“Marcus, that’s not—”
I started.
“What? I’m being honest,”
He interrupted.
“The kid needs to hear the truth. Not everyone gets to be successful. Some people are meant for service jobs.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Someone’s got to clean the toilets, right?”
My cousins laughed.
Uncle Tom raised his glass in agreement.
Aunt Sandra whispered something to her husband and they both smirked.
David’s hands trembled slightly as he set down his fork.
His face had gone pale, but he was trying hard not to show how much the words had hurt.
I recognized that look; I’d worn it myself plenty of times at family gatherings over the years.
“Actually,”
I said calmly,
“David’s doing quite well in his business classes. His teachers say he has a real aptitude for financial analysis.”
Marcus waved his hand dismissively.
“Teachers say that to everyone. Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to help the kid set realistic expectations.”
“You know how tough the real world is without connections, without the right education, without money. Let’s be real here.”
The Facade of Success
“Your business seems to be doing well,”
I observed, keeping my voice neutral.
“Damn right it is,”
Marcus said, puffing up with pride.
“Just landed the Morrison contract. Three million over two years. We’re expanding to three new locations next quarter.”
“I’ve got 12 employees now, a fleet of company vehicles, and new office space downtown. Corner unit, 20th floor, windows overlooking the harbor.”
Everyone congratulated him in a chorus of admiration.
Dad clapped him on the shoulder.
Mom beamed with genuine pride.
My other siblings chimed in, asking about the expansion and the new office.
Jennifer wanted to know if he was hiring.
Uncle Tom asked about investment opportunities.
Marcus soaked it all in, holding court like business royalty.
“That’s impressive,”
I said,
“when do you plan to file the quarterly reports?”
“What?”
Marcus looked confused.
“The quarterly financial reports. They’re due next week, aren’t they?”
“For the Morrison contract, you’ll need detailed expense tracking, profit margins, tax documentation. Pretty complex stuff.”
Marcus’s smile faltered slightly.
“Yeah, well, my accountant handles all that.”
“Right,”
I said, taking a sip of water,
“your accountant.”
“Can we please just enjoy dinner?”
Dad interjected, clearly uncomfortable.
“Let’s keep the peace here.”
Balancing the Books
But I stood up slowly, folding my napkin and placing it beside my plate.
“You know what’s interesting, Marcus? You’re absolutely right that connections matter in business, and education matters, and having the right people in your corner who understand complex financial systems.”,
“Where are you going with this?”
Marcus asked, his voice taking on an edge.
“David,”
I said, turning to my son,
“why don’t you go wait in the car? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
He grabbed his jacket and left quickly, grateful for the escape.
I heard the front door close behind him.
“Look, if I offended you—”
Marcus started.
“You didn’t offend me,”
I said,
“you offended my son. But that’s not really the issue here.”
“The issue is that you seem to have forgotten some important details about how your business actually operates.”
The room had gone completely silent now.
Everyone was watching us.
“What are you talking about?”
Marcus demanded.
“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve been doing your books for the past six years.”
“Every single financial report, every tax filing, every expense account, every payroll calculation, every quarterly statement, every annual audit preparation. All of it. Me.”
“I’ve categorized every business expense, tracked every client payment, reconciled every bank statement, calculated every employee’s paycheck and tax withholding.”,
“When you got that business loan two years ago, who prepared the financial statements?”
“When the IRS audited you last year, who assembled all the documentation that kept you out of trouble?”
“When you bid on the Morrison contract, who analyzed the costs and profit margins to make sure your proposal made sense?”
Marcus’s face went red, a deep crimson that started at his collar and spread upward.
“So, I pay you for that. You’re my accountant. That’s your job.”
“Do you?”
I asked, pulling out my phone and opening my accounting app.
“Because according to my records, you haven’t paid my invoices in eight months. You owe me $42,000.”
“That’s not including the rush jobs you’ve asked me to do, the weekend emergency calls, or the times I’ve had to drop everything to fix your mistakes.”
“The last payment I received from you was in March. It’s November now.”
Mom gasped audibly, her hand flying to her mouth.
Dad’s fork clattered onto his plate with a sharp metallic sound that seemed to echo in the sudden silence,.
Uncle Tom’s eyebrows shot up.
Jennifer’s mouth fell open.
“That’s not—I mean, we have an arrangement,”
Marcus stammered, his confident tone evaporating like morning mist.
“You know how it is with family. We help each other out.”
“We had an arrangement where you paid me on time,”
I replied.
“But then you started asking for family discounts. Then you said you’d pay me after the Morrison deal closed. Then it was after the expansion.”
“There’s always another reason why you can’t pay. But somehow you found money for this house renovation, that new car in your driveway, and this catered dinner party.”
“You’re family,”
Marcus said weakly,
“I thought you understood.”
“I understand that you’ve been taking advantage of me for years because you knew I wouldn’t make a scene,”
I said.
