I’ve probably got more blue Brooks Brothers non-iron shirts than most banker bros — but even though I love bankers, now that I’m a dad, my blood pressure still spikes at your lack of empathy, bruh. Have a baby already.

Dear banker bro in a graphic tee at Sycamore jockeying for a position at the taproom bar to order another pitcher…

Bruh, I’ve got a 15-minute window here. Just let this 5’7″ dad get a Countryside IPA before my 3-year-old decides to press the water cooler dispenser without putting a cup underneath.

I get it, I get it. You’ve been day drinking since 1 p.m. and your group hasn’t had any beer for the last 7 minutes so you need to jump ahead, but I’ll remember you next time I see you at OMB and I won’t tell my kid to stop throwing rocks near your shin.

[Agenda related story: Top 10 breweries for babies, ranked]

Dear banker bro who just asked me to get a happy hour drink….

Bruh, I can only choose two out of the following three things — relationship with my children, relationship with my wife or happy hour beers. Let’s do a call.

Dear banker bro wearing a Bonobos suit (even though you can afford a tailored suit) cutting in front of me for the escalator at the airport listening to the latest Pardon My Take podcast on your Airpods…

Bruh, I get that you make $150k (plus bonus) and you just made a killer Powerpoint deck that a decision maker may or may not actually look at, but I can guarantee you that negotiating with and entertaining a 3-year-old during a plane trip is 10x as hard.

Yes, I look like I’m sweating. I am sweating.

Yes, my son is riding on the luggage because I don’t have a free arm to carry him and he’s refusing to walk.

Yes, I’m wearing shorts and white athletic socks because I didn’t pack right.

Just let me get home.

Dear banker bro who looked at me like I need to control my son after almost spilling your $5 craft beer on Thirsty Thursday at BB&T Ballpark because you wouldn’t be caught dead drinking the $3 domestics from big beer…

Bruh, I’ll be gone in the 2nd inning.

I get it, I get it. My 3-year-old is melting down, but for some freaking reason the Knights love starting games at 7 p.m. instead of 6 p.m. where I could actually watch baseball, but whatever.

Dear banker bro who compares dog ownership responsibilities to having a child…

Bruh, you literally have a pet spa and dog grooming lounge in your apartment.

I just told my wife she’s crazy for putting up a pee shield in our bathroom. Then the next day, I walked in on my 3-year-old missing the toilet completely and peeing directly on the shield while looking up at me and saying, “Daddy, let’s play swords!” Don’t ask.

Bruh, I’m not bitter about you being able to day drink for 8-hours at Sycamore, enjoy a happy hour beer, breeze through the airport without a care, watch more than two innings of baseball and not have your walls urinated on.

Why? Because when my 3-year-old randomly turns to me and says, “Daddy, you’re my best friend” it’s an easy trade-off, bruh.

Oh, and happy Father’s Day to the other Charlotte dads out there.