Queen Bee

I have worked for many years as an executive assistant, usually for a CFO or Vice President. There was always an executive assistant who ranked higher than me. She supported the CEO or President of the company. No matter where I worked, this lady was always extremely self confident and bossy. Her skills were no better than the rest of us admins, but she had power. She is the Queen Bee.

Did the Queen Bee become bitchy and arrogant after she got the job?  Or did she get the job because she had a demeanor that commands respect?  

I think I know the answer because I am now the Queen Bee. 

I became a CEO’s assistant a year ago. Thanks to many years in great companies in various roles, plus lots of lessons in leadership, I have acquired a lot of good skills and poise and I definitely came into my new job with self confidence. I work very independently, I make decisions all day acting on behalf of a very successful person and I seem to get it right. 

As part of my role, I am often asked to be the messenger and deliver some communication that the other party doesn’t necessarily want to hear. Sometimes I see a process that could stand improvement and I take the initiative to make changes. I have been fortunate that my boss has empowered me. 

My first attempt is to get people to “want to” not “have to”. Sometimes I’m literally delivering a message and it’s all “have to”. I’ve learned that if you sound meek, no one listens. Somewhere between impatience and disappointment in human nature, I think I started to sound bitchy lately. And I’m sorry to say, it’s much more effective!  

Queen Bee is growing on me.

Do I want that to continue?  

Deep Pockets Chapter 2

I bolstered my strength with a nutritious breakfast and braced myself for providing another free therapy session at my dental appointment this week. My hygienist did not disappoint. Just after I settled into my comfy chair in a zero-gravity position, she said, “So, where did I leave off with what’s going on with my mother? Oh…I saw you in July. I had just moved her from Alaska to Assisted Living here near me. Well after that, I had to move my mother to Memory Care in Emeryville. Here’s what happened….”

I was hoping there would not be a Chapter 2, but here we are.

I may have been distracted by her story or my mind wandered but I didn’t follow her instructions to spit or slurp or whatever I was supposed to do with the little suction tube so I dribbled saliva and gunk down the side of my neck on my cashmere sweater. “Oopsie! Let's wipe that up!” 

For the 114th time I got lessons on how to brush better. (yes, I'm counting)

For the 114th time I got instructed how to remove plaque. Sometimes I wonder if this is really within our control. Or is it like trying not to get your shoes dirty? You'll never succeed, right?

I was reminded to schedule an appointment to replace a crown.

“Does the scraping noise bother you?”

My only opportunity for self expression was when the hygienist asked me why I don’t want her to polish or floss and I could actually speak. 

“So I can get out of here faster.”  

Home Alone

Does that sound like an adventure movie about parents who leave a mischievous kid at home?

Sometimes it’s just the lady of the house. 

What does she do?  First, she cleans like a fiend. Off come the work clothes, on with the leggings and tee shirt and diving into a long-awaited project. All gadgets and solutions are in use: vacuum cleaner, windex, dust cloth, washing machine, dryer, masking tape, goo-gone. Garbage is carted out. Piles go away. A mini-reorg happens. Like an episode of Bewitched, all is perfectly innocently in place when the husband gets home. 

After the cleaning, the chef gets to work. A trip out to the pots that make up my kitchen garden to snip some fresh watercress and dill. These are the pots of my failed summer vegetables; I’m doing much better growing lettuce, spinach and herbs in the winter. [If you’re not in California, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you jealous that we can actually grow a salad between fires and mudslides.]

Before getting on with my dinner - a side note on watercress:  I don’t know anyone who grows it but when you google it, it comes up as a micro-green, a super-food with instructions on how easy it is to grow in a jar on your windowsill. I’ve always loved watercress. My grandmother soaked it in a lemon juice dressing and served it as is. Watercress sandwiches?!  The British are on to something, I tell you! Watercress will be the new basil. One of these days, it will be in little pots at Trader Joe’s for $3.99. Just remember, you heard it first HERE.

Dinner:  Fresh tomatoes with watercress; fresh dill in a lemon sauce (lemons from coworker’s tree) on my vegetable stew, topped dried tomatoes from my summer garden. I’m able to add something homegrown to almost every meal these days. 

And then she writes a blog post. 

Satisfaction guaranteed.