Management books don’t generally cover the proper way to explain to the client who I’m on a phone with, that the sudden background noise is due to my father who just burst into the room shouting that his computer is working too slowly courtesy of viruses he picked up while forwarding conspiracy theories and racist emails, and that is my fault for trying to clean up his parasite Chrome extensions earlier, and that I regrettably must call back when I’ve made the noise to stop and the blood pressure to return to normal.

Can’t blame anyone but myself for coming to the suburbia to help shovel snow and staying to work from here.

This still can’t come close to an unforgettable episode of driving with my father, with him unable to figure out the GPS and shouting at me to fix it into one ear, while a managing director from my old firm screaming into another on the phone about some long-forgotten overnight production crisis that happened in India.

Of course, we made up 30 minutes after.