At 32, My Father Mocked My Career As A Consultant, But When His Failing…

A Heavy Silence at Thanksgiving

At 32, my father mocked my career as a consultant, but when his failing company was acquired by mine, he realized his mistake. His son had saved him.

32 years old and still pursuing fantasies. My father’s words pierced through the Thanksgiving dinner conversation like a dagger.

Everyone at the table became silent. That awkward quiet that occurs when someone says something so harsh that no one knows whether to laugh or turn away.

“When will you get a real job, Ethan?”

I glanced up from my dish of turkey and stuffing. My father, James Parker, sat at the head of the table like a monarch holding court.

60 years old, hands rough after 35 years of work. Working outside has left my face weathered.

He was wielding a fork at me like a weapon. He went on to discuss construction, getting up to his point that is actual job.

“Look at your brothers. Chris is now a foreman with a team of 15. Michael oversees three job locations. But you,”

he said,

laughing. Actually laughed.

“What are you even doing? Consultant. That is not a job; that is a fancy term for jobless.”

My uncles, Dad’s brothers John and David, moved uneasily in their chairs. My mother, Linda, stared down at her plate, her knuckles white around her fork.

My brothers, Christopher and Michael, exchanged looks. Chris grinned; Michael at least had the courtesy to appear sorry.

My aunt Sarah attempted to deflect the subject.

“Linda, the turkey is amazing.”

“I am serious,”

Dad interrupted, leaning forward.

“32 years old. When I was 32, I already had two children and bought a home.”

“I was constructing stuff—real objects, buildings, structures, and stuff you can touch. But Ethan sits at coffee cafes with his laptop, pretending to be a businessman.”

Uncle John laughed. Aunt Sarah’s husband, Charles, chuckled into his wine glass.

Everyone was staring at me now, waiting to see how I’d respond, whether I’d defend myself or simply accept it as usual. I smiled and took a drink of wine before carefully setting down my glass.

“You are completely correct, Dad,”

I said gently.

“I am clearly not doing serious work.”

He didn’t get the satire; he never did. Finally, he slapped the table.

“The boy acknowledges it! Perhaps there is hope for you yet. Chris, do you believe your organization is hiring?”

“Perhaps we might find Ethan a job as a laborer. Start from the bottom and work your way up like a true man.”

More laughs around the table.

The Real Work No One Saw

I checked my watch: 7:03 p.m. Four minutes. What my father didn’t know, and none of them knew, was that I had spent the previous six years creating something from nothing.

I started in a Seattle studio apartment with a used laptop, ramen, and ambition. Building software to optimize supply chain logistics for construction enterprises.

My first client was a small contractor from Portland. He paid me $600 to improve his inventory system; it saved him $40,000 the first year.

Word spread. Within 20 months, I had 26 clients.

Within four years, I established offices in four locations and 38 workers. Within six years, I had established the leading construction logistics consulting business on the West Coast.

Last year, I sold it to Stratton Global Industries for $50 million. I didn’t notify my family since I knew this would happen.

My father would ultimately go too far, mocking me in front of everyone and stating unequivocally that no matter what I accomplished, it would never be enough. And I had been preparing for just this.

“Tell us what you do again, Ethan,”

Uncle David asked, beaming.

“Is it synergy, disruption, or one of the other words?”

“Strategic consulting,”

I spoke evenly. Dad discussed supply chain optimization, process improvement, digital transformation, and translation.

“Nothing. He does nothing,”

Chris laughed.

“Come on, Dad, grant him some credit. He presumably creates PowerPoint presentations. That is something.”

Dad went on with his day.

“Men constructed with their hands. We did not require computers to tell us how to accomplish our tasks. We recently completed them.”

I looked at my mom. She stared at her plate, her lips pulled together in a narrow line.

She had heard this speech before. Hell, I had heard this speech before every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and family event over the last six years.

A Secret Acquisition

However, this year was different. Four months ago, I discovered something unusual.

My father’s construction company, Parker and Sons Construction—the business he dedicated his life to and was most proud of—was faltering badly. They had lost two important contracts to competitors who used superior project management tools.

They’d gone over budget on three distinct assignments owing to inadequate logistics. They were losing money.

The company had been acquired by Stratton Global Industries, the same corporation that had purchased my consulting firm. And I was now the Chief Strategy Officer with ownership, a corner office, and decision-making power over all divisions in North America.

My dad had no idea. He had no idea his firm had been acquired seven months prior.

He grumbled about the new ownership management structure and policies at every Sunday meal. The ones I stopped going to four months ago because I was too busy at work.

So when my mother called two weeks ago to invite me to Thanksgiving, I had already made a call.

“Andrew,”

I told Andrew Collins, CEO of Stratton Global, that I needed a favor. Sitting at this table, as my father was gradually destroying me in front of my whole extended family, I checked my watch again: 7:05 p.m. Two minutes.

“You understand what your problem is, Ethan,”

Dad was adding.

“You never learned the value of hard work, and we gave you everything. You’re almost 32 years old. You drive a 12-year-old Honda, and you rent an apartment.”

“You went to college and came back thinking you were too good for honest labor. You don’t have a girlfriend because what woman wants a man who can’t provide? You’re a disappointment, Ethan. Someone had to say it.”

And the silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Aunt Sarah looked horrified.

My mother’s eyes welled up with tears and Uncle John appeared uncomfortable. Chris and Michael both stared at their plates, but my father just sat there satisfied with himself, as if he’d done me a favor by publicly humiliating me.

I smiled the easiest smile I’d ever worn.

“Interesting,”

I said quietly. 7:06 p.m. One minute.

“What’s interesting?”

Dad asked.

“Your definition of success. The assumption that because you don’t understand what I do, it must not be valuable.”

“I understand exactly what you do,”

Dad said.

“Nothing.”

“Dad, come on,”

Michael said.

“That’s enough.”

“No, it’s fine,”

I said, still smiling.

“Let him speak. I want everyone to hear this.”

Dad’s face darkened.

“You think you’re smart because you went to college, because you use big words? Let me tell you something.”

The doorbell rang and everyone froze.

“Who is that?”

My mother inquired, appearing perplexed.

“Everyone’s here.”

“I invited someone,”

I replied nonchalantly, checking my watch once more: 7:07 p.m.

“Just on time. I hope that’s all right, Mom.”

“You invited someone?”

Dad’s voice dripped with disdain.

“Great. Probably one of your jobless coffee shop pals.”

I rose up and said,

“I’ll get it.”

“Sit down, I’ll get it,”

Mom said, already standing.

“No, Mom, let me.”