March 21, 1974
Father had me once again at the mercy of his training regime. These days, it seems like my primary duty is babysitting my four rambunctious teenage brothers. Why does he insist on burdening me with this responsibility? He spends most of his time tending to the farm or indulging in his fishing expeditions. Yet, he expects me to take care of my siblings. It's just not fair.
Today, Father decided to teach me Morse code, claiming it would protect me from potential detonator mishaps in the future. As if that's a skill I'll ever need. But I played along, eager to please him. Little did I know that our day would take an unexpected turn.
Father had a grand plan to outshine the other prominent farms in the area, like Sneedly's Farm. His idea was to cook a can of tuna in a unique steak-style preparation. It was his way of asserting our dominance in the farming community. Naturally, he assigned me the task of procuring the tuna for this grand cookout.
I retrieved the can of tuna from the cabinet, but in my haste, I neglected to save the excess oil. When I confessed my oversight to Father, his reaction was far from pleasant. He erupted in frustration, exclaiming, "Blast! I shall be ruined!" I watched in horror as my father, the esteemed patriarch of the Schrute dynasty, locked eyes with me.
"From this moment forward, you shall be formally shunned!" he declared, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "A tradition that has spanned centuries in our family. You shall remain shunned until your 6th birthday."
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My own father had cast me aside, banishing me from the family until I reached the age of six. The weight of his decision hung in the air, and my mother's gaze spoke volumes of her disappointment in me. I was now condemned to endure the shame of being shunned by my own kin, all because of a forgotten can of excess oil.