If you work in a sales organization, it’s a good bet you spend a week each year at the annual “kick off.” It’s a multi-day festival, typically lasting from 7am to midnight. By its end, you’re saturated in company spirit and Jack Daniels.
While I love the event, I stress from being away from my precious cast of characters. My consolidation is the confidence I have in my better half to handle all manner of mayhem.
This week the “steely-eyed missile lady” came through again. Right around the time when a flight attendant was offering me a warm hand towel hanging from sterilized tongs, my intrepid wife was experiencing Zika virus-like symptoms. By the time I was dining on tender veal medallions and sipping a fine chardonnay, she was taxiing the kids to various events and managing our high-maintenance puppy rather than shivering under our covers.
To keep it interesting, I learned the family car broke down during my morning massage, uh, workout. Lucky for me the vehicle is still under warranty, so all she had to do was manage the situation for a few hours, coordinating Triple A, the Chrysler dealer and our demanding children.
I didn’t mind TOO MUCH when she interrupted me during the company golf event to give a status on the rooftop deck project. I advised her to keep her distance from the swarm of workers in our home, lest her ailment spread and delay the project.
As I fly home, catching up on email, I notice she needs information to complete the prep work she does for our yearly tax appointment. I’ll be sure to send it over right after the in-flight movie.
Gee! I sure hope next week is a lot easier when I’m home.