Junior

The other day I had to call one of my dad’s contacts to get some things we needed. Since my dad was a superintendent of some apartment buildings, he had a list of people he would call for different things he needed. Every time I contact one of those point people, I hear a story about my dad.


I was calling to return some mop heads that were too long. When I told the guy, Brad, that I needed to exchange the mops, he said ‘your dad would always complain about the size of the mop heads’. I didn’t doubt what he was saying. He then imitated my dad’s voice and said “Junior, why are these mopheads so long? I clean small apartment buildings. Not the Empire State Building!” I chuckled as he told me the story because I could completely see and hear my father doing and saying these things. Brad mentioned that within 20 minutes of a delivery, he expected to hear from my dad about some aspect of what was sent. It wasn’t always negative. Sometimes it was just a thank you that the merchandise had arrived.

What made me chuckle the most is how my dad would refer to Brad as junior because he was the son of the owner. This was correct usage but I never heard anyone but my dad using this term to address people. I was so used to people named ‘Junior’ having the same name as their father. To me Brad wasn’t really a junior because his dad’s name is Jerry. But my dad was right, he was the male child.

When he wasn’t calling people Junior, he’d call almost everyone else Johnny. I remember one time we went to a gas station and an attendant filled up our gas tank but also cleaned our windshield. He clearly had a badge that said “Abdul” on his chest but my dad said “Thank you, Johnny! Nice job!” At the time I found it embarrassing but now it’s one of the things I miss and that makes me smile when I think of him.