All the President's Son

Story Sent in by Debra:

While I was out to dinner with John, he name-dropped like it was going out of style:

"Yeah, I met Bruce Springsteen a few times backstage, and John Mayer."

I didn't really care, but I gave him the expected oohs and aahs that he wanted. He also said, "My dad's the fire chief of this city... and the county, too, sometimes."

Well, fantastic for your dad. John went on for a while about himself and his various accolades when he let slip, "My father, who was lieutenant governor..."

I pounced. "You said before that your dad was the county's fire chief."

"And the lieutenant governor. What, my dad can't have two jobs?"

"Not if the jobs are made up. What's your dad's name?"

"I didn't make it up. My father's name is Martin Filtner."

That wasn't John's last name, and I said so. He replied, "I took my mother's name instead."

"That's odd. Why?"

"Because my mother's the... president!"

"Of what?"

"Of everything!" he shouted, then stood up and stormed away from the table. I thought he was going to leave at once, but he caught our server as she carried a tray of food to another table, gestured to our table, slipped her some cash, and left.

The server came up to me, a minute or so later, to let me know that John had taken care of the tab. I wondered why, until I later on that week received an email from him, asking me if I'd want to go out with him again. He said he'd once more pay for everything, and me going out with him again could be my way of thanking him.

I didn't bother to respond, as the son of the president of everything likely would have no trouble finding someone else to impress.