Role #3 Eternal Employee

In my earlier years, I was employed for a variety of companies, each of whom felt it necessary to put a spin on the word employee. Either I was a team member or an associate or my personal favorite, a sandwich artist. But the truth is, each time I was most definitely, an employee. I worked my allotted hours, collected my pay, and left.

As my job switched from employee to family gal, I took on more of a boss persona. I was, after all, the only one at home for most of the day that could make important decisions, plan for important activities, or walk or talk. Somewhere along the line, I even started to fire my husband occasionally. He'd be loading the dishwasher all wrong with the bowls where the plates went or the knifes pointing up waiting to stab me and I'd look at him politely and declare "you're fired." I'd take over the job at that point. This went on for years, really. "You're fired" was a fairly common refrain early in our marriage.

But over the last year or two, I guess I've stopped firing him so often. Because last night when he plopped our two sons in the bath and left for some personal time while they "nicely" played in the bath, I revisited that very effective refrain to his delighted surprise. The boys were pouring water on the floor, splashing water on each other, yelling for this parent or that, and screaming with abandon. I, who was nursing some sweet contractions, hoping baby #5 would decide to make an entrance, sat uncomfortably on the couch watching a valuable nature show on raptors. The screaming induced me to my feet into the bathroom a couple times to enforce, um, encourage some diplomacy between the two boys until daddy could come and lean over the cold, hard bathtub and wash the two hooligans.

The third time I had to go storming into the bathroom, I called out to Matt "You're fired!" "I'm coming, just a second," he quickly replied. But I was there. So I positioned my big tummy somewhere kind of comfortable and washed those two boys. He arrived soon after and swooped the clean, but wet boys away to their pjs and beds. I assumed the proper position of laziness on the couch. Matt came smiling to me later and told me that he hadn't been fired for a long time. He had mixed feelings about it. He kind of liked being fired; it brought back some fun memories and feelings, yet he knew that he was in some amount of trouble and that he should probably feel a little sheepish.

I got to thinking about why I hadn't fired Matt in so long. First, I thought "he's getting to be a better employee." He is more helpful, does his duties with precision, offers to help others, and knows his place. Wow, I'd done a great job training him, I realized. But the longer I thought about it, the more I realized that he really hadn't changed too much. Perhaps he was always the same proficient employee, but I was just realizing that instead of being just your average employee, he was a very valuable, and in fact, an eternal employee. After all, when I fired him, he never left, he just came back stronger and more reliable.

Then I realized that I was just getting smarter, not him. I was a smarter boss. Why fire your star employee, the one that is equally willing to sweep the floors, restock the shelves, handle the cleaning of the product (kids in our case), bring in the needed revenue, be the Chief Information Systems Officer and more. He was everything to this little venture we call a family. He was no simple employee, he was owner and operator, cheerleader and coach. He is the heart of this family.

I'm so glad that I have such a dedicated partner. Our little family just wouldn't run as smoothly without him. In fact, I'm inclined to say that we would have folded long ago without him. He is the heart of our little operation, the best, most wonderful eternal employee I've ever seen.

Next time I'll think twice before I fire him. And then, I'll probably give him a raise.