Shelf-life and how sometimes it really just is too late.

by thesilverhorde

I am livid.

Quite nonchalantly my mother told me some mysterious people emailed my father congratulating him on winning two million pounds. I smirked sceptically. Firstly I live in South Africa, so pounds? Really? But it got worse, I don’t want go in to details because it’s painful. Why is it painful? My dad seems to be falling for this scam. So I tried to do the logical thing and disprove “Fifa Canada International Lottery”  promises of riches. I googled it, and guess what, it’s bogus– like I knew it was… But my dad, though, seems hell bent on believing they are honest people who are actually giving away free money.

I tried to talk calmly. Then I tried an authoritative voice. Then a meek voice. And then I begged. Didn’t  work. I actually think I made it worse by meddling…

The relationship my dad and I have is not a good one. Normally just exchanging pleasantries is trying. So when I say I actually tried and talk with him- that’s a big thing. The other day a friend, who’s always been a bit worried about my daddy-issues, told me to just try and talk to my dad. I told him that it would’t help. His corny response was,” It’s never too late.”

Well, now I tried and it just reaffirmed what I already knew– sometimes it can be too late.

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