Here is a column I wrote in a rush 10 years ago and then shelved. I found it recently while rooting around in my hard drive looking for something else.

April 2005

MY WIFE AND SON WERE OUT OF TOWN for a couple of days to photograph some California mission for school, which left my 13-year-old daughter Gwenna and me to have our own adventures, like go to Sandoval’s for lunch.

We sat down, dipping chips in salsa and munching. We needed maybe 10 seconds with the menu before deciding on our combos. Gwenna mentioned a babysitting job coming up later that day, which inspired me to ask about her rate of pay.

“It varies,” she said. “From $4 to $5 per hour.”

She asked about ways to bring up the topic of a rate increase to lower-paying customers.

“How about something like this,” I suggested. “Say: ‘I’ve been trying to remember to tell people that I want to be more consistent with my rates. I’ve usually been getting five dollars per hour. Is that OK with you?’”

We ordered our food and sat silent for a moment while giving the chips and salsa a good run.

“If you can develop this sort of people skill as a kid for having this kind of talk, it’ll serve you well your whole life,” I said.

“Adults are actually pretty impressed when a kid can take the lead on a topic like that.”

I recalled an episode when I was 12 and I mowed a neighbor’s lawn without negotiating the money up front. It was a hot day and the lawn was way overgrown and it took hours of exhausting labor pushing the mower through 6-inch-tall grass and having to empty the bag after each row of mowing just to finish the job. I was wiped out.

Standing grimy and sweaty at the door after the job was done, I was offered five dollars as total pay by the woman — pretty skimpy compensation, even in 1971 dollars. I lamely accepted, not sure what to say.

Adults always have an enormous advantage when negotiating with kids because of the lack of life experience kids have in moments of money negotiating. It’s unconscionable for an adult to exploit that situation to save a few bucks.

Our drinks arrived. Gwenna let me have the last chip.

“This lemonade’s really good,” she said.

“May I?” I asked as I produced my own straw to sample a taste.

“I guess I get to try yours now,” she said and pantomimed a move toward my beer.

“Sure. Go ahead.” I scooted the Corona over the table. Not interested, it turned out.

“You want me to drink beer?”

“I knew you wouldn’t. If I made a big deal about denying it to you, it might make you want to try it. Forbidden fruit, and all.

“It’s reverse psychology. It’s similar to something I do with Wesley when we’re dealing with scary places like being in the alley when it’s totally dark. I’ll say, ‘I’m pretty sure I saw a ghost out there.’ I always do it. He knows I overdo the ghost talk, and it puts him in the position of being the mature one who denies the presence of such things. He’s never been afraid. Pretty potent stuff, this reverse psychology.”

I thought for a second. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about that secret technique of mine,” I said. We both smiled.

“Don’t tell Wesley,” I added.

We paused as my fish tacos and her quesadilla were placed before us.

“You know, this is valuable ‘life wisdom’ type stuff I’m giving you here. You realize this, of course.”

Continuing in a warm, fatherly mood, I tried to think of more life lessons that my multiple decades of experience would allow me to bestow.

“I have more pearls of wisdom,” I said.

“Here’s one you may already get. Don’t watch horror movies. They just make you afraid of the dark and less able to function. Who needs that?”

“Doy, daddy,” she said.

“That means ‘duh,’ except more insulting.”

She explained that the closest she came to going to such a movie was years before when a school friend kept describing the story line of “The Sixth Sense” over and over to everybody. That was enough.

“Here’s a good one,” I said. “Someone does something that really angers you and you can’t wait to respond. In fact, you’re actually sort of glad that you’re seething mad because you know it will inspire you to really let them have it. That’s your cue to wait three hours or more before calling them up or emailing them back.

“Then you’ll have the perspective you need to not overdo it.”

I thought of some of the times I made that very mistake. “Maybe getting that wrong is one of those mistakes you have to live through to truly understand. That’s how I learned it. Having to pick up the pieces after I overreacted to something someone did.”

The checked arrived and I dug through my wallet past all the ATM-supplied twenties to get some smaller bills to make a good tip.

“One last nugget. Be sure to make payments on time,” I said. “That’ll give you a good credit rating and really make a difference in your life. It’s pretty easy to do, too. You’re going to have to pay anyway. Why not do it on time and get all the benefits of having good credit?

“But that’s for later in your life, I suppose.”

I took a leftover piece of quesadilla in a napkin as a treat for Zoey, who would be silently waiting in the back of the car. “Doggy is going to love this,” I said.

And with that, we were gone.

Steve McKee is a Benicia architect specializing in residential design. He can be reached on the Web at www.smckee.com or at 707-746-6788. This piece originally was published in 2009.