My dad is kind of a wizard at computers. As a child, that’s what I would tell people when they asked for my dad’s occupation. Computer wizard. Still to this day, I can not describe in clear detail what he does because it’s just that interesting and truth be told I’ll never be able to comprehend his genius. When I was young, Saturday mornings meant one of two things: Dad and I would either go get donuts together or we’d go get breakfast and spend the morning at the computer store where I’d talk him into buying me games and then he’d take me up to work and let me roam the offices where I would play solitaire on literally everyone’s computer. (This was pre-password protected days. I know, I’m really aging myself over here.) It is still one of my favorite memories of mine — two nerds and their love for early 90’s computers.
A few years ago I had this crazy idea to open a store. I had told B about it and he didn’t flinch. So I decided to try it out on my mom, who can literally talk me out of anything. Oddly enough, she didn’t. A few days passed and my dad called me up and we were just chatting about nothing. That’s when he asked if I was serious. “I’m pretty much always serious, dad.” But he meant about the store not about life. Was I serious about opening a shop? Did I really want to do this?
For the next 6 months, my dad helped me build Bloom. We lived 5 hours away from McKinney where Bloom is, so I would drive up on the weekends and try to get as much done as I could. He taught me how to build a business plan and how to build a business, really. He took me to open my business bank account, to get my sales tax id. He went to market with me the first time. And as nerdy as this sounds, it was one of the best days of my life. I still remember my outfit, which is huge in this old dusty memory box of a brain.
When I needed displays, he built them. When I needed shelves, he made them. When we needed dressing rooms, he built them. (Seriously, this man is out of control with woodworking.) I would reason with him — but dad, I can just go buy some. The answer was always no, that’s what he was set on doing and that’s what he was going to do.
Every Saturday morning, I go up to Bloom, open up and see my dad in the woodwork, in the computers he built, in the business he helped me set up. Although there are no chocolate donuts involved, we still get to spend our Saturday mornings together.
Happy Father’s Day, dad. I forgot to get you a card.