Jobless

My dads Jobless, mind you the job he had been delivering sandwiches for a firm so crooked even the building leaned, was never great.

"You can train dad", I'd say.

"Get Qualifications" I'd tell him.

But it was the mid-eighties and Dad looked disinterested. Preferring instead to sign on and let us idle by on minimum benefits.

"I'll find a job" he'd say.

No resume were written or handed out, and the jobs that were applied for, he was quickly dismissed. Days slowly turned to months as my fathers depression grew.

We all learned to quickly accept 2nd's or charity shop bargains, and never refused hand me downs from the family (no matter how awful). Family jeered and whispered behind our back.

* - They could do better.
* - The clothes don't look like they've been washed.
* - Their so unkempt.

I hated them for it, they never helped, never visited and I never regarded them as my family. The truth was my dad's was getting more depressed and my mum who already suffered from depression was getting worse.

There were rarely arguments over money though, but with my dad getting increasingly lethargic over work and my mums enhanced depression things weren't happy, a depressed melancholy lingered. I tended to lock myself away from it all reading comics, studying or simply thinking.

This was the way of things for eight years, I was now at university studying for a degree in computing. Each week I'd offer my dad to write his CV for him.

"Already got one at job club son" he'd say

"Remind me tomorrow" he'd respond as he sat watching daytime TV.

It hurt me to see my father dejected, down and worst of all disinterested. I hatched a plan, after years of positive comments I'd take the role of spoilt brat.

I was off university this day and dad was watching daytime television as I gently steered the conversation towards job hunting, as usual.

For once I let dad lead the conversation, telling me again how a job was just around the corner. Abruptly I stood up and let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You'll never work, you're a loser" I told him.

For a split second I caught the look in his eyes, he was hurt and crushed. I turned to leave every fibre in my body screaming at me to turn around and apologise.

I never did apologise and stood outside the living room door wiping away tears trying not to be heard. I had never believed this of my dad, and never will.

I expected shouting or dad to rush upstairs and scream at me but he never did. Two weeks later he had signed up for a course (his first one in six years), two months past and he had a full time job. Nine Years have passed since that day and he has a good job and is even putting away some money for his pension.

He still believes I mean't what I said that day, but if he'd had opened the door he'd have seen the truth. He's accomplished alot and I'm proud of him and proud that for once he listened.