Perhaps all young parents go through this: little ones often get sick, and you have to take sick leave. But employers at any company are reluctant to hire young mothers like me. That’s why I’m terrified of my boss. What if he fires me?
My husband calls me a life deserter. I’m afraid of everything: that our daughter will get sick, and I’ll have to take that dreaded sick leave. That we won’t have enough money until payday. That the boss will call me into his office, chew me out, dock my bonus, and after the team meeting, sternly say, “And you, Ms. Thompson, I’d like you to stay behind.”
— Why are you so scared of this boss? — my husband, Kevin, asks, puzzled. — At home, you’re like a general in a skirt, ordering us all around.
— You’re right, of course. You know, darling, I don’t even understand why I’m so afraid of him. You never know what he’ll nitpick about next, but he always finds a reason.
Kevin has a vivid imagination. When I complain, he tries to lift my spirits with funny improvisations. This time, he says in a completely serious tone:
— Listen, it’s simple: everyone adapts to their boss and shows them due respect. It’s just how it works. Imagine, for example, a janitor being called into the property manager’s office. Before going, he smooths his mustache, adjusts his apron, neatly stacks his tools in the corner of the storage room, and confidently reports on his work. He’s not trembling with fear because he knows he’s done his job well.
— Sure, the janitor’s got it easy. He’s done everything perfectly, — I said with a giggle. — But our boss is impossible to please. One day we’re late, the next we miss deadlines, or we’re doing a terrible job. Yesterday, at the team meeting, he called us a gang of criminals. Literally said, “You lot would make a fine gang of criminals.” We all chimed in, “Why’s that?!” And he replied, “Because you don’t leave any trace of your work.” So, I guess I’m a villain!
— Oh! — Kevin burst out laughing. — Your boss has a great sense of humor, and you’re still complaining. You should’ve said, “Mr. Johnson, give us some credit! At least we’re doing *something* perfectly.”
— Yeah, you’re having fun. Messing with him is like flirting with a crocodile. We’re not exactly thrilled, — I sighed. Sometimes I just want to snap, make a remark, issue an ultimatum… Basically, tell him exactly what we all think of him.
— There’s an easy solution, — Kevin said calmly. — Why do you think people have voices? To tell their boss exactly what’s on their mind. Try it—it’ll help.
Our conversation was interrupted by our five-year-old daughter, Sophie, who’d been in her room the whole time but clearly heard everything. She came out, clutching her doll under her arm, and asked matter-of-factly:
— Mommy, who’s this boss?
Our little girl has an amazing knack. She seems to be quietly playing in her room while the adults are in the living room, but later it turns out she’s heard every word of our conversations. And she’s right in the middle of her “why” phase—endless questions!
— Oh, Sophie! — I exclaimed. — The boss is this grumpy man at work. He’s always dissatisfied, scolding and intimidating all the employees. You know, he’s like a real dragon.
— With three heads? — Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise.
— Just one, sweetheart. But he’s so mean that everyone’s terrified of him. I’m probably the most scared of all! When I see him, I get chills. Brr!
— Mom, does your boss bite? — she asked, instantly curious.
Kevin and I burst into laughter.
— Well, sweetie, that’s one thing he doesn’t do. Otherwise, we’d really be in trouble.
—
A few days later, Sophie spiked a slight fever. I was horrified. There was no question of sending her to kindergarten.
— Why is everything going wrong?! How could she catch a cold? I’ve been so careful with her! — I wailed. — What do I do now? Take sick leave? The boss will kill me. Or at the very least…
— Stop whining! — Kevin said firmly. — Tomorrow, we’ll do this: don’t take Sophie to kindergarten. Bring her to work for one day. I’ll drive you both.
— Are you crazy?! — I panicked. — What will the boss say when he sees a kid?
— You’re missing the point! This will show your unrelenting dedication to work: your daughter’s sick, but you, like a martyr, still show up to your beloved job. You’ll see, he’ll appreciate it. He might even praise you!
Somehow, he managed to convince me. — Hooray! Hooray! — Sophie cheered.
— I’m going to work! Mommy, will the boss be there?
— Oh, he’ll be there, sweetheart, don’t you worry. That dragon’s not going anywhere, — I laughed, because Sophie looked so adorably excited and satisfied.
In the morning, we got ready, packed some toys, and headed to work. Sophie looked very important and serious, eagerly anticipating new experiences, fidgeting in her car seat.
At the office, I settled her at my desk and handed her some colorful markers.
— Sweetie, draw for now, and we’ll figure out something else later. Okay?
— Mommy, where’s the boss? — Sophie demanded. — Why isn’t he here?
— He has his own office, — I explained. — He works there. He might stop by later. Don’t be in such a rush.
— Fine, — she sighed, disappointed. — Guess we’ll wait. I really want to see him. — And she dove into her drawing. Every now and then, I glanced at her: she was scribbling diligently, tongue sticking out adorably, not bothering anyone.
Mr. Johnson came in just before lunch. As usual, he looked grumpy and preoccupied. I froze.
Sophie looked up at him, then ran to me with a frightened expression. She clearly realized this was the long-awaited boss. But when he saw her, he broke into a wide smile and exclaimed in surprise:
— What’s your name, little girl?
— Sophie, — she replied, frowning. — And you… you’re probably Mommy’s boss?
— You got it, — Mr. Johnson smiled back. — Sophie’s not feeling well, — I started to explain, but suddenly, Sophie grabbed her latest “masterpiece” from the desk and showed it to him. The drawing depicted some hideous monster.
— This is you! — she declared proudly. — What do you think? Do you like it?
Everyone in the office froze. What would the director do?
But Mr. Johnson studied the paper closely and… burst into loud laughter.
— It’s fantastic! Remarkably accurate! Great job! You’re a star, Sophie!
Sophie beamed at the glowing praise from the fearsome boss.
After this unprecedented incident, Mr. Johnson didn’t fire me. Instead, he completely changed his attitude toward us, his employees. He became more humane, friendly, and approachable. And less demanding. As for my paralyzing fear of him—it vanished like it had never existed.
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