I always hated my father because he was a motorcycle mechanic, not a doctor or lawyer like my friends’ parents.
Growing up, I always felt embarrassed by my father’s job. While my friends boasted about their parents’ prestigious careers—doctors, lawyers, businessmen—my father worked long hours in a garage, fixing motorcycles. It was a humble job, but for me, it felt like a constant reminder that we were different, and not in a good way. He…