I remember having an argument with my father when I was sixteen years old. I can’t recall what started the argument (probably me complaining about the unfairness and difficulty of my privileged, middle-class, teenage life), but I distinctly remember my father becoming annoyed by something I said.
In response to whatever naïve, idiotic comment I had just made, my father told me that I had no idea what it was like to be an adult, trying to support a family. I sat at the dinner table, rolling my eyes at him, as he stood by the sink, frowning at me. He said, “You don’t realize how easy you have it. Someday you will have bills to pay, taxes to worry about, and a family to support. You think you have it hard now, but you have no idea what life is really like.”