So I was in New York City on business last week and I brought my husband and daughter with me. While I was stuck in meetings, seminars, classes and a girls bathroom line the size of Hands Across America, my husband took care of our daughter.
He toted her around town and she did great. She is urban-city-girl-extraordinaire and New Yorkers loved her. Yes, big scary New Yorkers. New Yorkers are kind, friendly people. Just don't expect them to blow sunshine up your bum. And I mean that in the kindest, uber-Californian, everyone-gets-a-trophy-for-participating kind of way.
Towards the end of the trip, we were happy with the way everything had turned out; but we were both burned out - on a lot of things. For example, I was burned out on optical people (my biz) and hotel food. My husband was burned out on diaper changes and teething shenanigans. We were ready to get home.
So as we sat on the bus that hauls all 800 of my company plus one husband plus one 9-month old baby girl to the airport, I see my Senior Vice President making his way down the aisle. Now this is a man who has a Harvard M.B.A. and intimidates the hell out of me. And it's not him. He is the most down-to-earth, kind person I've met. I just happen to say the most idiotic things when I am around him. He always disagrees with me. I feel like a complete idiot in his presence most of the time. So you can imagine my dilemma as he sits down in the seat across from me.
Will I say the most intelligent thing ever said by a project manager ever? Or will I say something that will only confirm his opinion that I am the most ridiculous employee-of-an-employee-that-reports-to-him in the world?
I introduce him to my husband and daughter. We chit chat. Marketing-blah-percentage-blah-sports-blah-blah. He sits back to read his paper. I attend to my daughter. Crisis averted. We are at status quo.
And then.
My daughter starts screaming. And there is an echo in the back of my head that is my husband about 15 minutes earlier asking me if we shouldn't make her a bottle to take on the bus. My husband looks at me and says, "She's hungry. Do you want me to give you your cover-up?"
"NO! I am not whipping my boob out in front of the man that holds my career in his hands! Hello! Promotion-killer!"
More screaming.
Now people are wondering where the baby comes from. Isn't this a business meeting? Who brought the ankle-biter?
Beads of sweat are building on my forehead. I think to myself, OK, I can be the mom with the scream-y kid, or the mom who nurses her baby 2-feet from the VP.
Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock.
"Give me the cover up!"
I get her under there, whip out the momma-love and baby is quiet and asleep in minutes.
And that's when the voices start.
Oh my god! You are not doing this. You are doing this. OMG! Every time he thinks of me, he is going to think of momma-Kim, not kicking-ass-and-taking-names-Kim. This is not good for the career! OK, how bad could this be? He has 3 kids...he seems progressive. Oh my god!
Well, anyway. It was over after what felt like several hours, but lasted about 10 minutes.
The moral of the story is triple-fold.
1. When your husband suggests a bottle, don't blow him off like he's new to this.
2. A Harvard MBA VP is no match for a hungry baby.
3. Life is humbling - never forget it.
I saw my Harvard MBA VP today at work. It's been a week since the "Boob Incident" as it has now been named. He asked me if I could get my hands on some information from my underground network (the group of people that actually get things done in my company) and I was able to do so - 20 minutes flat.
I'd say I'm now just a smidge above status quo. :)
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