A letter to my husband’s bossNovember 14, 2010 at 8:07 pm | Posted in Daily Life, Work & Life | 4 Comments
Dear Mr in charge boss man,
I used to think of you as quite a nice, fair chap. Offering a great pension, job security, annual pay rises, and bonuses at Christmas.
Now I am not so sure. It started with a seed of doubt, and is quickly sprouting into an ugly weed.
Whilst it is true that my husband and I have recently reached the seven-year mark, I am not feeling that itch. I very much like spending time with him you see. He is a very funny man.
But something is irritating me. I am not an easily enraged person. Yes, I have been known to write the odd strongly worded letter (the variety that I have my mother to thank for; she would be proud). However to get me vexed it is usually a combination of mounting events. And I tend to explode when hungry and tired. Both of which are current states.
And this is why, on a cold Sunday evening, following a lovely family day of food, wine and board games, the frustration is mounting.
My two year old son and I are watching Shaun the Sheep on repeat before bed, and my husband is not here.
Lonely…. Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons
The dinner is on, but I could be eating alone. Do I preserve half, or eat three quarters and box the little leftovers up for our son? It’s a very nice salmon and potato broth as well I’ll have you know.
Do I plan an evening of blogging and tweeting, finding solace in my online community, or do I dare to dream that I might cuddle up with the man who I pledged to spend the rest of my life with and watch the X Factor results show?
You see, I can understand that during ‘these challenging times’ that we must all pull together and bear the heavy load that is the boulderous recession.
I understand, I really do. But when you changed his hours from having a meager two in five weekends off, to an obviously depressing three in ten weekends off, you can imagine I felt a little put out.
And then when you openly declared that you didn’t care about work life balance and that families didn’t matter; I was left everso slightly miffed.
When you proceeded to say that you might cancel some of those rare weekends off with no come back, the steam began to mount.
And then when you decided you might just move everyone to a different, harder to reach location I really felt that gasket rattling.
You may not be happy at home but we are. Family does come first. You know you have your staff by the danglies and you don’t care.
Well let me tell you; when I’m sitting at home, alone, packing the stockings on Christmas Eve, and my husband is with you, he’s going to remind you just how amazing our little family is, and I hope one day that you get even just a little bit of what we have, and you realise that it’s not to be sniffed at, or taken away from people who deserve a little quality time together.
Actually, I bet you won’t be working on Christmas Eve – you certainly aint Santa – so maybe you’re Scrooge?
Put out of Oxford.