I’m heads down this week, feverishly working to be able to stamp “final” on the manuscript. (Yep, we did ultimately settle on a title—The Case for Mass Career Customization—more on this topic somewhere down the line.) Pondering what that one poignant phrase could be that sums up all the swirling feelings of acknowledgement leads to me think back to the last time I was searching for that one perfect phrase of dedication.
I recall the response from the editor when dedicating a previous work, Connecting the Dots, to Stars and Glitter. “Huh” was about all she could muster. But that phrase said it all.
Here’s the scene. I’m in a town car with the leader of our consulting business at the time on the way to visit the head of one of the big tech companies. His mind is clearly on business, prepping for the upcoming session, commenting on shifting market dynamics, etc. My mind, however, was in a different place—at home. You see, my son who was six or so at the time was displaying some ‘symptoms,’ shall we say, that were a concern to me.
Just as he was turning to ask my opinion of the market in Japan, I turned to ask him a question of a different sort: “Can little boys get bladder infections?” I said. (Hey, why not? He’s a dad with a teenage son.) He looked a little stunned; perhaps a tad uncomfortable as he squirmed a bit and cleared his throat. It was clear that he’d rather talk about Japan. He muttered back something to the effect of no, don’t worry about it. (Ever hear that before?) But I did, so right there in the town car I called the pediatrician who, remarkably, was available to take the call.
“Can boys get bladder infections?” The doctor’s response was that it depends. “Did you ask him what it felt like?” “Yes,” I answered, “he said it felt like stars and glitter.” “Better bring him in.”
This little vignette is a snapshot of my life. What it looks like to be fitting work into life and life into work through an everyday exchange. How about you? Do you have any snapshots to share?
Cathy
By blogger Cathy Benko, Deloitte & Touche USA LLP
Thursday, Feb. 8, 2007 5:35p.m. EST
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Carol in San Jose wrote:
I can't begin to count the number of times I have woven work and life together throughout the day. One time when my son was younger, I had taken an afternoon off to take him miniature golfing. One of my clients was in the middle of an M&A transaction, and I needed to participate in a call with a colleague -- that afternoon. So in between holes, I took a break to find a "quieter" place in the picnic area to take the call, while my son chased his ball around the course. The fact that the background noise was from miniature golf as opposed to a golf course didn't really seem to matter as I thought it might have. The key was that I was available to work through an urgent issue. And I didn't mind taking the time for the call, as I was outside, with my son, having our fun afternoon together. Just this week, I was dealing with my son whose drum lesson had been cancelled the day before. His drum teacher got out of work late and got stuck in traffic. The drum lessons are new, and my son with his emerging talent was extremely disappointed. He was scheduled to have a make-up lesson with his teacher after school the next day, until I got a call from his teacher saying he'd have to cancel again. (The teacher got called into a late afternoon meeting that he couldn't get out of in time for the lesson. I found out that he works at a local technology company -- I told him I can totally relate!) I knew that my son would be disappointed, and that he wouldn't take hearing the news very well from our nanny. But I had a meeting scheduled at a client for the rest of the afternoon. In the parking lot of my client, before heading inside, I sent off a quick text message to my son that he'd see when he got out of school to let him know the news. During a quick meeting break at my client, I saw a text message back from my son, and took a moment to respond back to him. I felt "connected" with him in the midst of my busy day, and the text messages were quicker than a phone call, checking voicemail, or scrolling through numerous emails on my Treo to see if my son was trying to reach me. In the past couple years, there are many times when I've been talking to clients, both men and women, heard their kids in the background, and we've sometimes needed to wait a minute for them to respond to their children. I always smile when I see my clients making an effort to be with their families rather than just staying late at the office, even if that means doing some work at home. Query: are men more comfortable being "transparent" with women, who they might think will relate to and accept their personal work/life issues, than with other men? Or as "professionals," do we have this image of what we think our clients expect us to be like, rather than realizing our clients often have the same challenges that we do when it comes to work/life balance?
Elizabeth in Shelton wrote:
In case someone hasn't told you this lately: you're a great mom, Cathy! Your concern for your children never seems to waiver. I've got a three-year-old and a one-year-old at home, my husband is a full-time stay-at-home dad. I work in a predominantly male industry and am the only women at our audit committee meetings. I understand it isn't always easy to play the businessperson AND the loving mom, but it's so important to stay connected to family. Hats off to you and the other women in our shoes who blaze a trail daily.
