Obvious Agenda

I’m not always clever enough to comprehend other people’s inner realities at the moment I’m talking to them. But a recent incident astounded me. My adult son lives in a different city and I take great delight in visiting him.  He often takes me out with his friends for coffee, drinks, or a party. I’m grateful to hang out with his social group, but it’s a cultural shock, something that wasn’t done in my younger years. Would I have taken my mom to a friend’s party? Never.  She would’ve ridiculed idea, asking, “Are you nuts?” 

But I loved being with Jon’s friends. When ensconced in youth culture, I felt like I visited a different country. I found them more enlightened than my generation. For example, when our family pet of twenty years got seriously ill, my son flew home to nurse the cockatiel bird for a week. His young boss understood and allowed Jon to complete all his work via computer. My son’s male friends expressed tender sympathy. After all, many of them had run in and out of our house as kids and played with our extraverted bird for most of those years. When our poor bird died several months later, his boss insisted Jon take a week off.  When my son tearfully returned to work three days later, she asked, with genuine concern, “Are you sure you don’t need more days off?” I’ve come to expect this kind of sensitive humanity from young people. 

When Jon’s friend, Zach invited the two of us to dinner with his mom and stepdad, I agreed, happy and flattered to be part of my son’s world. Zach’s parents had just purchased into a fancy home in an expensive gated community, a vacation place they planned to visit every couple of months. Zach was a newer friend of Jon’s, and I’d only met him the day before. When I thought about it, the quick invitation seemed rushed. While Jon and I drove to their house, I decided to probe. If there were odd dynamics to the evening, I wanted to be prepared. 

When I asked Jon if there were hidden reasons behind the invitation, Jon laughed and admitted, “Yeah. Zach messed up badly in high school and had a party when his parents were gone. He really trashed their house. Since then, his mom’s never allowed him to have friends over when she’s not there. Now that Zach is twenty-six and a successful landlord of ten properties, he’s jazzed about this gorgeous new house. He wants to entertain his business friends in it when his parents aren’t there. But the old high school rule still applies.”

I nodded, confused. “But where do we come in?”

Jon’s broad smile expanded. “Don’t you get it, Mom? You’re a retired college professor with a Ph.D. And I’m a nice guy with an MBA who his parents like. Zach’s showing his folks that he hangs out with classy people now.”

“Us?” I asked. I’d never heard the word “classy” applied to me and I stumbled over the concept.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “We’re being used!” I felt annoyed that I would have to act like a sophisticated, smart person all evening, which made me immediately tongue-tied and embarrassed. My Ph.D. in Art History ranked on a low rung of the academic status stepladder when compared to Zach’s mom’s highly esteemed Ph.D. in cancer research and her husband’s top tier M.D.

When we drove to an area of elegant mansions, we stopped at the security gate and the guard checked our names off his list. He waved us through ornate cast iron gates. As we neared Zach’s parents’ house, we noticed extra cars parked on the street in front of nearby houses. It looked like several other homes held Saturday night gatherings. After a couple of miles of winding wooded roads, we found the address.  Our doorbell ring was met by Zach’s parents, an ordinary-looking older couple, both with unnatural-looking black hair. When I imagined them dying their hair together, black streaks splashed around the bathroom, I stifled a giggle.

Attempting to be energetic and cheerful, not my usual quiet introverted self, I muddled through the evening. Zach’s mom proved to be a social climber, the type that chilled my blood. I wished I were sitting on my childhood panties printed with “Saturday.” These were a traditional talisman for me that’d always provided a confidence boost. I listened to hours of bragging about her tenure and many publications.  By the end of the evening, bleary-eyed, I couldn’t imagine I’d been much help to Zach’s cause. However, to my relief, I didn’t spill food down my clothes. 

After a tasty dinner, dessert and coffee, we walked toward the front door, saying “thank you.” All at once, I heard a frank evaluation of my son and me. My stomach plummeted. 

“So, what do you think, Mom?” Zach asked. “I have nice friends now, don’t I? Ones that don’t trash houses.”

My mouth fell open to the fly-catcher position, although at that time of night, several moths might’ve freely come and gone. Right in front of us, they discussed our success as acceptable guests – or not. In a way, it was honest. I’d been used to my family’s hidden agendas. Mom had frequently and loudly touted, “We are a close family” to all those around us. In reality, she kept so busy with parties and dating, I didn’t see her for days at a time during my childhood.  And when I did see her, she acted so preoccupied, she didn’t seem to notice me.

Zach’s mom looked us over, with large whitened teeth that flashed like wolf fangs. “Sure, they’re nice. A big improvement over your usual crowd. I’ll add Jon’s name to the list of those permitted to enter this house.” She slightly nodded toward me, “And you, too, when you’re in town.” Staring back at her son, she added, “No one else, until I meet and approve of them.”

My dinner righted itself. We’d been officially sanctioned. Perhaps my introverted talents of listening provided the audience she needed. Maybe the false cheer helped too.

“Th-thank you,” I stuttered, acting as if grateful for her largesse in considering me worthy to enter her home without her presence. Inside, I tried not to laugh. Jon said all the right words with his suave business-man cordiality. 

Once in the car, alone with Jon, laughter won out, and we giggled the whole way home. In retrospect, it proved to be refreshing to have a hidden agenda blatantly pop to the surface so quickly and to share the humor with my son.

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