Chapter 4 - CARTER BUILDING SUPPLYMy father started the business with one rented warehouse in 1987.
By the time I graduated high school, we had a store.
By thirty, I ran contractor accounts.
Mark came in after college.
Dad wanted us to inherit it together.
That was his favorite fantasy.
Two sons.
One business.
Family name over the door.
He had less interest in whether either son wanted the fantasy.
I left after Jenna became pregnant.
Not because she forced me.
Because I could no longer tolerate Dad treating employment as ownership of my time.
Seven-day weeks.
Calls during dinner.
Vacation canceled because a contractor needed shingles.
My father called sacrifice:
responsibility.
I called it exhaustion.
The final fight happened in his office.
“You walk out, don’t come back expecting a piece later.”
“I’m not asking for one.”
“You think your school maintenance job is a career?”
“I’m facilities director.”
“You fix toilets.”
“Sometimes.”
He never forgave me for not being ashamed.
Mark stayed.
Became operations manager.
Then vice president.
Then the son who understood the business.
Dad compared us constantly.
Mostly to Eli.
“Your father quit.”
“Maybe you’ll have more grit.”
I should have stopped that sooner.
Instead I told Eli:
“Grandpa talks big.”
Eli would shrug.
“I know.”
May you like
I treated endurance as consent.
That was my mistake.
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