Bring Your Father to Work Day

My kids rarely ask me what I do for a living, and it's probably a good thing. I'm not even sure I know myself anymore.

However, when my company mentioned that they would be participating in a national "Bring Your Child to Work Day" event, I jumped at the opportunity. This day would not be haphazardly strewn together either. There was an agenda, and a real educational purpose. The children were to be graced with an opening address by the President of our division; a privilege that most employees rarely see.

The children were asked to shadow their parents around the office, and even interview them in the process. They were then expected to report back to the hosts on their findings. They were to be shown a "sizzle reel" explaining the basic tenets of our organization, and the unique capabilities of our sales and technology departments. After lunch, the day would consist of writing ad copy and working on producing their own television commercials.

I decided to take my youngest daughter because my oldest had a scheduled field trip. She was genuinely excited until she saw the agenda. Write copy? Make a commercial? That seemed too complicated and several feet above a 7-year old's head. I explained that they wouldn't make the projects too difficult, but she had her trepidations. Even an innocuous word like "storyboard" freaked her out. I told her it was like writing a comic strip, but she said she couldn't draw. I simplified it and said you just put a few words below a few sketches, but this worked about as well as a small band aid on a bullet wound.

It took a few weeks of prodding, but I finally convinced her. And so, the little girl ventured out on her first day at work in the big city. She was nervous, and who could blame her? Strange environment, new kids. It got me thinking about that feeling we get when starting any new job. We feel like kids.

She arrived promptly and I introduced her to some of my co-workers. She was shy, unlike the way she is almost anywhere else. The agenda began with the ceremonial meet and greets.

They asked each child what they wanted to be when they grew up. Everyone picked their top choice. My daughter had 4: Doctor, Dancer, Singer and Teacher. Holy crap. I'd have to work until I'm 97 to pay off the educational expenses. Maybe she could save money and become a dancing doctor or a singing teacher.

Shortly after, the kids were asked to interview their parents. And this is where the transformation began. If a salesperson entered my office when she was interviewing me, she tried to usher them out. She started forming allegiances with other people so she could get help escorting the more aggressive ones out. The kids were soon asked back into a conference room to share their findings and my daughter said brusquely, "you can leave now, Dad." First she removes colleagues, then she removes me.

After working on her commercial, she started using words like "green screen" and "tag line" like they had always been in her vernacular. One of the producers said that she has a knack for writing copy. People in human resources told me that they were impressed with her participation level. Several salespeople liked her assertiveness.

At the end of her work day, she noticed an employee pacing around his cube, wearing a baseball glove. He was tossing a softball in the air. My daughter's instinct told her to ask what he was doing. He said, "I'm bored." My daughter quickly replied, "shouldn't you be working?" There was deafening laughter in the office, as my daughter showed that she may be a natural born manager. I let her sit behind my desk and when a salesperson approached her for rates, she quoted them 40 percent higher than me.

During the last half hour, she was introduced to a barrage of people. This time she gave each one a firm handshake and even outstretched her hand first on a few occasions. People began asking her when she's coming back and a few joked about hiring her.

But the real joke was on me. Because I didn't take my daughter to work last week.

She took me.