5 things I want to scream at banker bros now that I’m a dad — but I don’t because I’ve been there before
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I’ve probably got more blue Brooks Brothers non-iron shirts than most banker bros — but even though I love bankers, now that I’m a dad, my blood pressure still spikes at your lack of empathy, bruh. Have a baby already.
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Dear banker bro in a graphic tee at Sycamore jockeying for a position at the taproom bar to order another pitcher…
Bruh, I’ve got a 15-minute window here. Just let this 5’7″ dad get a Countryside IPA before my 3-year-old decides to press the water cooler dispenser without putting a cup underneath.
I get it, I get it. You’ve been day drinking since 1 p.m. and your group hasn’t had any beer for the last 7 minutes so you need to jump ahead, but I’ll remember you next time I see you at OMB and I won’t tell my kid to stop throwing rocks near your shin.
[Agenda related story: Top 10 breweries for babies, ranked]
Dear banker bro who just asked me to get a happy hour drink….
Bruh, I can only choose two out of the following three things — relationship with my children, relationship with my wife or happy hour beers. Let’s do a call.
Dear banker bro wearing a Bonobos suit (even though you can afford a tailored suit) cutting in front of me for the escalator at the airport listening to the latest Pardon My Take podcast on your Airpods…
Bruh, I get that you make $150k (plus bonus) and you just made a killer Powerpoint deck that a decision maker may or may not actually look at, but I can guarantee you that negotiating with and entertaining a 3-year-old during a plane trip is 10x as hard.
Yes, I look like I’m sweating. I am sweating.
Yes, my son is riding on the luggage because I don’t have a free arm to carry him and he’s refusing to walk.
Yes, I’m wearing shorts and white athletic socks because I didn’t pack right.
Just let me get home.
Dear banker bro who looked at me like I need to control my son after almost spilling your $5 craft beer on Thirsty Thursday at BB&T Ballpark because you wouldn’t be caught dead drinking the $3 domestics from big beer…
Bruh, I’ll be gone in the 2nd inning.
I get it, I get it. My 3-year-old is melting down, but for some freaking reason the Knights love starting games at 7 p.m. instead of 6 p.m. where I could actually watch baseball, but whatever.
Dear banker bro who compares dog ownership responsibilities to having a child…
Bruh, you literally have a pet spa and dog grooming lounge in your apartment.
I just told my wife she’s crazy for putting up a pee shield in our bathroom. Then the next day, I walked in on my 3-year-old missing the toilet completely and peeing directly on the shield while looking up at me and saying, “Daddy, let’s play swords!” Don’t ask.
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Bruh, I’m not bitter about you being able to day drink for 8-hours at Sycamore, enjoy a happy hour beer, breeze through the airport without a care, watch more than two innings of baseball and not have your walls urinated on.
Why? Because when my 3-year-old randomly turns to me and says, “Daddy, you’re my best friend” it’s an easy trade-off, bruh.
Oh, and happy Father’s Day to the other Charlotte dads out there.