Frank Hunt’s son

[fbhjr]

I’ve been thinking about where I am working for the next 9 days and how the head of the division is the son of the owner.
My father didn’t own a business, so I don’t really know what it is like.
The closest thing I have seen to it was 25 years ago when I applied for a job where my father worked.

My father worked for the power company for 52 years. He was the head of his engineering department for about 30 of those years. He didn’t like being a manager, so went out of his way not to be promoted any higher, even though several people who used to work for him ended up being put in charge of him.

When I was fired from my first job, my mother convinced me to apply for a job at the power company where my father worked.
After all, my father worked there, her father had worked there, and she had worked there for my father. So, it was as close to a family business as we had going.
I was about 25 and had only worked that one job out of college at the time.

My father’s office was only 10 miles from where I was living with my (now) wife. So, it wouldn’t be a bad drive. They were a nice stable place and paid well.
Going by that, it seemed like it might be a good place to work.

I walked in and from the very first person I met, everyone said the same thing: “So, you’re Frank Hunt’s son?”
Then they usually went on about what a good engineer my father was, how many years they had known him, and their great respect for him.
While these are nice things to hear about your father, it certainly did not make me want to work in his shadow.
So every time someone ask “you’re Frank Hunt’s son?” I’d reply: “No, I’m Frank Hunt.”
This seemed to confuse them. At least until they actually would look down at my resume and see the junior at the end of my name.
(I’d do the same thing to my father. If I had to call his office he always answered “Frank Hunt here.” I’d reply “No, Frank Hunt here!” I’d usually get a “Oh, it’s you.” in response to that.)

I made sure I didn’t get the job. I failed to fill out the form needed to be considered a candidate. (My mother and I, predictably, got into a big fight over this.)
I had no interest in the job. They weren’t even talking to me because of my experience, skills or training. Only the name mattered.
That wasn’t the sort of job I wanted.

This is why it surprises me a bit when the head of the division says things like “my father, the owner of the business, might be stopping by for an inspection today”.
I’m not saying I got where I am without help. I had tons of it. From family, friends, teachers, coworkers and everyone in between.
But, I certainly never want to spend my career being someone’s son. I find it strange others do.