At The Family Dinner, Dad Called It ‘Playing With Computers’—Then His Client Called Me CEO

The Sunday Roast and the Family Disconnect

The Sunday roast was perfect as always. Mom had outdone herself with prime rib, roasted vegetables, and homemade Yorkshire puddings.

The dining room table was set with the good china. All 12 family members had gathered for our monthly dinner tradition.

I sat between Aunt Linda and my cousin’s new wife. I was carefully cutting my meat while Dad held court at the head of the table.

“Thirty-two years I’ve been consulting for Harrison Industries,” Dad announced proudly. His second scotch was making him expansive.

“It started when old man Harrison ran the place. Now his son James has taken over, and we’re still their primary business consultancy firm.”

“That’s loyalty. That’s building real relationships.”

“That’s impressive, Dad,” my brother Eric said, raising his wine glass. “Real business is about long-term client relationships, not quick schemes.”

The dig was aimed at me. It was always aimed at me.

“Speaking of real business,” Uncle Tom jumped in. “Eric tells me you made senior consultant this year. That’s excellent progression.”

Eric beamed. “Five years at the firm and I’m finally getting the recognition.”

“Real career advancement, real salary increases. That’s what happens when you commit to legitimate work.”

I took a sip of water and said nothing. “Now Eric understands what it takes to succeed,” Dad continued, gesturing with his fork.

“Structure, mentorship, and climbing the ladder properly. Not like some people who think they can skip all the steps.”

Mom caught my eye sympathetically, but she didn’t say anything. She never did.

“How’s your thing going, Riley?” Aunt Linda asked. Her tone suggested she was fulfilling a social obligation.

“Still doing the computer work?” “It’s going well,” I said simply.

“Riley runs a tech startup,” Eric explained to his girlfriend with barely concealed amusement. “Or claims to. Something about cloud services.”

“We’re not really sure what it actually does.”

“I build enterprise cloud infrastructure solutions,” I said evenly. “Data management and scalability architecture for large corporations.”

Dad laughed. “See, none of us understand a word of that. That’s how you know it’s not a real business.”

“Real business you can explain simply.”

“I help companies optimize their operations and reduce costs,” I said. “Simple.”

“Maybe you should try to explain it simpler, Riley,” Eric suggested with false helpfulness. “Use terms regular people understand.”

“Not everyone speaks tech jargon.”

“I’ve tried,” I said quietly. “For eight years.”

“Eight years,” Dad repeated, shaking his head. “Eight years of playing with computers in your apartment, pretending to run a company.”

“Meanwhile, Eric’s built a real career with real advancement.”

Uncle Tom nodded sagely. “There’s something to be said for traditional career paths. Proven models, not these fly-by-night internet things.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.

“The problem with your generation,” Dad continued, warming to his topic. “You think you can reinvent the wheel.”

“You think you know better than people who’ve been in business for decades. You want shortcuts.”

“I don’t want shortcuts,” I said. “I just built something different.”

“Different?” Dad’s voice rose slightly. “Riley, you sit in your apartment all day on your laptop.”

“You have no office, no employees we’ve ever met, and no tangible product we can see. How is that a business?”

“I have 43 employees across three offices,” I said calmly. “You’ve never asked to meet them.”

Eric snorted. “Forty-three employees? Right, and I’m the Pope.”

“You have a few freelancers you hire occasionally,” Dad corrected dismissively.

“That’s not employees. Employees have benefits, salary structures, and career progression.”

“Not whatever arrangement you have with your laptop friends.”

The phone buzzed again, then again. “Riley, phone away please,” Mom said gently. “Family time.”

I pulled it out to silence it and saw the caller ID: James Harrison. My stomach dropped.

“Sorry,” I said, standing. “I need to take this. It’s important.”

“More important than family?” Dad’s face reddened. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No boundaries, no respect for personal time. This is why your business model doesn’t work.”

“I’ll be quick,” I said, stepping into the hallway.