“What do you mean they can’t smoke?” Mr. Dad bellowed after I reminded him the smoke-free Tennessee law goes into effect October 1st and would apply to his employees/workplace.
“What if I say they can smoke?” He asked.
“Well, you’d be in violation of the law and subject to a fine… or imprisonment if they allow me to testify against you.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously on the laws or seriously `would I testify against you?’ Yes and yes, if they offered me a deal, reward or free soda with purchase of sandwich from McDonald’s.”
“I thought the law just applied to restaurants – and you’re still upset about that whole toilet seat thing, aren’t you? I told you I was sorry about that.”
“The smoke-free laws apply to all public places including the workplace with three or more employees. There are a a few exceptions – but none that apply to you. And it’s not just the toilet seat thing. If you’re locked-up, it would be easier for me to date.” I explained.
“Dream on. I’ve already trained the kids to scare other men away. And you know, our guys aren’t going to like this no-smoking stuff,” Mr. Dad predicted.
(Insert 30 minute foaming at the mouth anti-government shtick: “I disagree with this. This is my property! I own it. I pay for it. I run it. It should be my decision whether people are allowed to smoke!”)
I sigh, “But you hate smoking.”
“That’s not the point,” Mr. Dad yells and continues the tirade, “It’s the principle of the matter.”
Mr. Dad finally says: “So, can you gather up the ashtrays tomorrow and post the signs. I’ll let you break the news.”
Then he adds. “You know, normally, you’re on top of this political stuff. I cannot believe you let this one slide.”
Geez, all of my other gigs weren’t enough? Mr. Dad now expects me to assume the duties of protecting all Tennesseans from pointless laws, general dumbassedness and extreme-leaning evil-doers in the state legislature?
I don’t know if I’m interested in the job. How much does it pay? Would this be a salaried super hero position or would I get a flat-rate fee per evil plot thwarted… or can I do billable hours? What about royalties from the action figure? Can I pick my own name? What about the costume – there’s no thongs involved right? Will I need a special bra for this? Would I get to wear tights? Can they be bright yellow? Ooh, can I have an invisible jet and a sidekick too? Could it be Kleinheider? Wonder how much I’d have to pay him to actually say “Holy Convicted Republicans, Tennessee Girl, Stacey Campfield is blogging without a spell-check!” Would my expense account cover that?
Nah, not interested.
“Yes dear, you’re right. I let it slide. I failed to heroically protect your “God-Given rights as an American Citizen” from the evil state of Tennessee. If only I hadn’t been so preoccupied with dislodging my butt from the toilet because some jerk left the seat up… you wouldn’t be oppressed right now.”
“You really are a smartass, ya know,” Mr. Dad announces this as if this were news. Then, he pipes up again, “What are we having for dinner?”
So anyway… is there a reward for reporting violations of the Smoke-Free Tennessee law and would it be possible for violators to get jail time?
[...] recounts a conversation with her father reminding him that the day when his employees can no longer smoke is less than a month away: I [...]
You make me laugh more than anyone else I read.