Somebody's After Genius Again, and Perhaps The Pony, Too

I don't want to give away too much information concerning Genius and The Pony. They have flow the coop, cut the apron strings, squirmed out from under my thumb, and are somehow surviving without my interference. As long as I deposit money in The Pony's account, that is. He has one year of college left, and isn't quite functioning in the real world just yet.

A while back, I might have mentioned how Genius dodged a plane crash by not accepting a job with a company who pursued him. A company known for manufacturing airplanes, which would have placed him in the division that designs the navigation systems of the models that have been grounded due to crashing. I don't like to use actual factual names, lest it infringe on Genius's privacy.

Well, someone else is after Genius. As you know, he currently works for, um... let's call them Garment. He designs navigation systems for big yachts. Not small yachts, mind you. Super yachts. He's very happy doing so. But these pesky companies keep trying to lure him away. The current one I will call OOber. They're still in the interview process, but I think they might be wearing down Genius's loyalty to Garment. He says that if offered, and if he accepts, it would come near to doubling his salary. Which is already above what I was making when I retired after 28 years.

Anyhoo... when Genius mentioned that he'd been talking to OOber, upon calling to chat hands-free on his evening commute, I at first said,

"Oh, no! You don't want to do that!"

"Why not? What's wrong with OOber?"

"You might die!"

"What do you mean, I might die?"

"You could get shot by a passenger!"

"Uh. Mom. I'm not going to be DRIVING for them!"

"Oh. Well. That's the first thing I thought of. Like, you might be wanting to make a little extra money in your spare time."

"No. I don't really need to do that. I would be working in their driverless car division."

"Oh, no! What if it runs over somebody, and you get sued?"

"Nobody can sue me, Mom. Besides, they've only killed ONE person! And she just ran out in front of the car with her bicycle. We're past that now."

I won't go into any more details. Genius has a good head on his shoulders, and is capable of making his own career decisions. The Pony isn't quite at that point yet, starting his senior year at OU next Monday. We have a bit different kind of conversation. Mostly by text. At unpredictable hours. Like Tuesday at 12:17 a.m.

"Supernatural stuff of the day: grey and faceless lady sitting on my couch."

"Were you sleeping?"

"No. This was earlier."

"Daytime?"

"I was in the kitchen, around 2:00? Not sure exactly, but daylight."

"A few days ago, my lair glasses had that smudge on them again when I came downstairs. In a streak of three, like kitten-size toes. Yesterday in my lair, I heard something fall behind me. Like a Puffs box hitting the tile. I couldn't find anything on the floor that might have fallen. The light outside my lair is burned out, and the one at the far end of the pool table goes off, then comes back on when I turn to look at it."

"Strange."

"Yep."

That's it. The entire conversation. Kids can be so different.