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| The Boss and CEO |
I’m sitting in my minivan waiting for my sons’ teacher to escort him out. I got here pretty early which is great, because I’m not too far back from the entrance of the school. I have clear line of site when teacher and student walk out of the heavy metal doors that remind me more of a fortress than a learning institution.
Although when you’re a kid, is there a difference?
Its not even close to 1:50 PM. That’s about the time I’ll first spot them as they make the trek down the long winding sidewalk to their waiting parents, who have been patiently on hold until their arriveal. Mimie use to do this all the time. This was her job, as the stay at home mom. And no body does it better then mom.
Taking care of three lives isn’t an easy task. Its up in the morning. Getting your school age son ready for class. Packing up the little one, who isn’t quite school age yet, but he can‘t be left behind. Traveling to the school and returning home, for a little tender, love, and care for the baby.
Your commute is reversed as the stay at home mom.
After you drop your child off at school you travel back to your office, your home. There’s no clock to punch, just mouths to feed. After you park in your assigned parking space and enter your enterprise, you head straight to the kitchen to feed the boss, your two year old. Who by now, has been up for almost an hour with no food and he’s chewing you out for not having his daily meal ready.
There is no assistance with getting this job done. It‘s just you and him.
In between the food preparation the dogs sit patiently by their bowls waiting for their turn to be fed. If your lucky, you may find time to start the coffee pot, so that when you are done with the crew, you may be able to take care of yourself and enjoy a caffeinated treat.
The boss cries as you do your best to get his work done in a timely fashion.
You run to the television and put on his favorite show hoping that maybe, the sound of Sesame Street will calm his demeanor like a favorable stock option that is paying dividends. When your done preparing the meal, you serve him, hoping he’ll accept the proposal you have just presented him. As he chews on it and mulls it over, deciding if he’ll eat it or not, its time to feed the dogs.
In the haste to get their food prepared and try to find time to feed your self, before the two year old alters your plan, the first big decision of the day comes.
Do I give the dogs dry dog food or mix it with the wet food as you usually do? It’s an executive decision based on your need to eat and the need to please the dogs. After you give in to the wants of your pooches and mix the dog food it’s time to prepare your own meal.
You toast a bagel and pour your coffee while you fry an egg, all at the same time.
Taking a quick time out to check on your boss and make sure he is comfortable with his meal. His plate is nearly empty and the dogs barely eating, it makes you suspect there is a little more going on. Realizing that the meeting of the minds between canine and human is going on way to long, and trying to keep a schedule, you break up the pow wow and send the dogs outside.
Once the back door is shut a smell of burnt toast reminds you that your breakfast just went down the tubes.
In the struggle to eat, in this dog eat dog world, you deal with the consequences of leaving your food too long. You eat around the edges of the bagel only to realize that it’s a circular object so you eat from the middle, working your way out, discarding the rest in the trash. You scoop up your eggs and swallow it down as you chase it with your morning brew.
So far, two hours into your morning shift, the day barely beginning, your ready to just take a break.
So before the dishes are done you sit on the couch, only to have to get up again and let the barking dogs in. On the way back to finish your break you get intercepted by the boss who lets you know his diaper is ready for the waste. So according to OSHA guidelines you bend at the knees when you pick him up and carry him to the changing station.
Once your settle him in at his usual place and all parties are ready to go, you realize that the shelves weren’t stocked by the night shift.
Now in hopes that your boss will stay, you run to the baby bag resting by the door and grab all the supplies you need. Thrilled with your ingenuity to find his toiletries, the boss gladly stayed where you left him. He allows you to wipe his butt, because kissing his ass will do you no good.
After he’s changed, you’ve missed your break and head back clean the kitchen.
Like making the bed every morning, you question the purpose, since you’ll only being messing it up for lunch and dinner. Its like you have eight arms as you push away your boss, who standing over your shoulder, hoping to get the chance to get his hands wet and show how you how its done. Your able to load the dish washer, as he stands on the open washer door, all in good fun, for him.
You walk from room to room gathering the clothes that litter the floors, like a maintenance worker after a rock concert.
You pause with the basket on your knee as you thumb through the DVD’s to find a movie of his liking, hoping to distract the boss, so you can get your own projects done. You arrive to the washer with the boss in tow, who tries to help you out. Of course he hands you the wrong tools you need to do your job and you just smile and accept it without a confrontation. When he runs away, because the television is calling, you do it the way it should be done. He’ll take the credit anyway.
In between the cleaning, you follow your boss around to clean up the mess he has left behind. Its such a thankless job, because your son thinks this is how life works. How little does he know that this isn’t how the real world survives, just like a typical boss.
After the chores are done, you think you can breath and relax on the couch. But between the dogs barking the dish washer going, the television blaring, the washer machine humming, the phone ringing and your son talking to you , the moment of rest is forgotten. You can only hope to zone out and fantasize about an island somewhere and collect all the sounds and place them in your thoughts.
The barking dogs are the native wild life, coinciding with the humming of the dish washer making the sound of the ocean, the television blaring is just the waiter asking for your drink order, the washer machine humming is a plane over head, the ringing phone is the local church tolling its bell and your talking son is telling you they love you over and over.
Suddenly, without notice, your distracted by a jump on your crotch, its funny how a two year old always seems to land there when they are jumping on you for your attention. You advise the boss its nap time and lay him in his bed only to hear him cry himself to sleep. Funny, about the only thing we have in common.
When he wakes its time to head out and pick up the CEO.
And here you sit in his limo, waiting for him to appear as he’s escorted by his posse. Their day is ending but mine is still continuing until they sleep for the night.
As I get out of the van to greet him, I can only hope that he has accepted his dads tall figure approaching him when it use to be his moms. I can only do my best to do what my predecessor did before me in this, the hardest day job I’ve ever had.
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