He's alive. But he chose sandwiches over us. He's been completely taken over by this stupid job. He leaves for work by 5am every day (2:45am on Wednesdays to do inventory). Normally, at least one driver at one of the restaurants calls out every day, so he's also the closing driver and gets home around midnight. Every day. He is supposed to be off work on Sunday and Monday, but this is an extremely rare occurrence. When he is off that half a day every few months or so, the phone rings nonstop and we can't even have a conversation.
It has gotten worse over the years but now I think he's just addicted to the power trip of management, and enjoys feeling important. I live way out of state now and don't get to see him as much as I'd like to, but I go out of my way to take some crappy freelance work in this area to get to spend time with him. I've been in town, staying in his house, for a week now and haven't seen him except for half an hour when I arrived. I'm a musician and am gone for work, in this case, about 8 to midnight every day. I've tried waking up at 7, 6, 5, 4 in the morning trying to catch him for a quick breakfast, but he's already gone.
And- for what? Not sure what salary would justify this quality of life, but he doesn't make much. He has no savings, no pension, no health insurance. He can't afford his diabetes medication and is starting to lose his vision. A few years ago he was cleaning the ice machine and his ladder slipped- he had a large gash on his head requiring stitches. He paid for all of this out-of-pocket, requiring him to cancel the upcoming weekend trip he'd planned with my stepmom they could no longer afford, and Jimmy John's graciously allowed him to use his vacation hours to take that one afternoon off. He was actually grateful.
He is 61 years old and he has completely sold his body and soul to Jimmy John. He complains nonstop about his employees not wanting to work but will tolerate no criticism of this establishment, nor of Jimmy himself. He thinks he is building this amazing legacy and that people will remember how hard he works for these restaurants and be inspired to work harder themselves. A life dedicated to sandwiches with nothing in return. Just the hope of getting to shake Jimmy's hand again at the next big managers convention.
He's been drinking the Kool-Aid since the Reagan administration, but he's my dad and my friend and I miss him.