Today I was called by the wrong name at work. Honest mistake? Potentially. Maybe I look just like so-and-so who works down the hall? Somewhat insulting, but not the first time I’ve heard that. But when it’s a male senior executive, who I’ve worked with for years, who continually gets it wrong? Who I’ve stopped in the hallway to wish well after being sick. Who I’ve worked diligently with during stressful crunch times. Well, it’s just hurtful. Okay, since I’m putting it all out there, I’m pissed. The part that actually gets me the most upset, is simply that I care. Why am I so upset about a “silly name”? To the corporate executive who doesn’t remember my name, this is why I care.
I was supposed to get up at 5:20am to workout, but I slept through my alarm. I overslept, because I was up late with my three year old, who had become convinced that the shadow on his bedroom wall, was a monster. I let him sleep in my bed for a little while, until clinging to the edge of the mattress, like it was the steep ledge of Half Dome, became way too uncomfortable for this Mom Climber. I was up again at 4:30am because the dog wanted to go outside to use the bathroom (when you gotta go, you gotta go). Finally crawling back into bed (again), I checked some work emails. I can’t think of a better lullaby.
After getting over the disappointment of missing my workout, and most likely the only alone time I’d have for the entire day, I got ready for work. This involved a two minute hot shower and lukewarm coffee, followed by getting two resistant toddlers ready for daycare and preschool.
After working through various toddler tantrums, unloading the dishwasher and gathering backpacks, everyone is successfully corralled to the car. I manage to make it to each drop-off location on-time (ish), listen to a podcast on the way into work, and assemble this week’s grocery list in the office parking lot. I enter the office with an open mind and a sense of purpose. Leaving my family for the day is not easy, but my hard work and dedication to my day job does mean something. I mean, it has to, right?
So to the high-level executive who can never remember my name, I remember yours. I also remember lists, laundry, favorite blankies, dog food, lunches, classroom snacks, stickers for the potty chart, to pay the bills, play dates, weekly dinner menus, homework assignments, bedtime routines and school performances.
It’s not easy being a working mom. We are held to the same expectations at work, as those who don’t have children. And even with lack of sleep and an outside-of-work-hours schedule that’s spread thin, we can still meet and exceed job expectations…with a smile. So when I get frustrated that someone doesn’t remember my name, maybe I should be grateful. I just gave myself permission to cross something off my list – remembering theirs.
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You are spot on about Mom lists, work life balance which I personally think exists for maybe 1% of Mom population, and people who can’t remember names. In defense of my age, I sometimes fail on a name but I can remember the efforts, late hours, attention to detail, teamwork, help of the person. And so should this ‘boss.’ Say it out loud, Mr. Big Shot. And should an opportunity present itself, call him Malcolm, Shirley (fill in the blank).
You are amazing ❤️