I need Dr. Rick.
According to my adult children, Progressive Insurance bases the entire Dr. Rick series on me. They just assume a reality TV film crew follows me around all day to source the material for the next barely-fictionalized Dr. Rick insurance advertisement.
They cringe at what I might say to the restaurant server or the tradesman working at my house. They roll their eyes and steal glances at each other as I extoll the virtues of defense on championship teams or getting to the airport early.
And blue hair? Are you kidding me? There is exactly one reason to dye your hair blue — to elicit comments.
I’m that guy. I’m the cliche.
(Although, I do have one shred of vanity. You’ll never catch me in these.)
My kids are horrified, but I’m OK with it because I’ve earned it. Yes, I’m a bit stodgy and predictable. I get excited about mundane things. I try to head off future problems. I sometimes find value in over-communicating. I’ve been there. Done that. Got the T-Shirt.
I’m also OK with it because I’m no longer trying to fit in with some curated group of people. I don’t need to be the cool dad or the young, old guy. I’m just gonna be myself — the cliche.
What cliche have you become? Are you OK with it?
