The regional manager – who we had lovingly nicknamed “Whiskey Breath” – was coming the next day to inspect the fast food restaurant where I worked in high school. So the assistant manager asked me if I would be willing to stay late to get the place scrubbed to perfection. I needed the money for college, so we worked until 2:00 am. The place sparkled but I was dead tired. I was looking forward to sleeping until 11:00, since I didn’t have to be at work the next day until 4:00.
Imagine my shock when my Traditionalist father (who had been raised on a farm) woke me up at 8:30 the next morning. Convinced something was wrong, I jumped out of bed and asked my dad what he needed. He replied that there was nothing pressing… it was just time to get up! He didn’t see any use staying in bed once it was daylight.
He also mentioned that he’d been up for three hours already….