Summer 1998. I’m 9 years old. My dad’s a senior associate at a BigLaw firm in the Southeast. On one of his cases, the client was a German company. For reasons, a witness had to fly in from Germany to be deposed. The guy flew in Thursday or Friday, but his depo wasn’t until early the next week, so he was around for the weekend. That Saturday was the firm picnic.
Somehow it became my dad’s responsibility to take him to the picnic. Also relevant, my dad had just bought a new BMW maybe three weeks earlier.
We had to go downtown to pick the guy up to take him to the picnic. Apparently, he told my dad to pick him up in the alley on the side of his hotel. Weird. He was also excessively late. When he finally showed up, he was exactly what you’d picture. Very German looking. Thick German accent.
The picnic was at a partner’s property like an hour outside of town. I wish I could remember more of the conversation because the whole drive out there was kind of surreal.
Anyway, we get to the picnic, and at some point after we’re there for a while, he starts talking to just me. We’re standing near where everyone parked.
He looks around and says, “See all of zees cars? All of zees cars are shit. Pure shit. Except for your dad’s car.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I thought that was an inappropriate thing to say to a child.