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| now we're talking executive desk! (photo by Edwin Petrus on Unsplash) |
Though my Grandpa Berrigan and my Uncles Jack and Gerry were all insurance executives, otherwise, mine has been an executive-less life. Oh, my dad embraced “executive time” long before Trump perfected it: start the day very late, finish the day early, account to no one about your activities. But sadly, Dad had neither the position, nor the salary, nor the employees, to be an actual “executive.” Generally speaking, a traveling salesman who only works from 11-3, making no sales, is a pretty sub-par traveling salesman. Also, Dad didn’t own a suit that quite fit; again, though, DJT, for all his quadrillions, apparently doesn’t either.
Steve is CEO, CFO, and COO of Family Stages/Rehoboth Summer Children’s Theatre, our little entertainment empire. My hubby works all the hours Dad didn’t (and then some), and the actors who work for him respect him greatly. And we are much better off financially than the Cunninghams ever were. But there’s a certain je ne sais quoi that Stevo lacks. He dresses kinda like the guy who delivers the Starbucks order to the executives’ meeting. He could make more of a sartorial effort, I guess, but at his age, after 46 years of successfully running our business, why should he bother?
My work role was never what you’d call “executive” either. During my 20 years at church, I hired and fired no one. I gave no one a raise, or a warning. While I could make suggestions, mine was never the final word on anything. Visually, my office was quite small, with no fancy boss-level desk. It doubled as a dressing room for the acolytes on Sunday mornings. I admit I exerted very little effort in the decorating department, either. For at least a decade, a wall sported a giant poster left by my predecessor, featuring one verse from every book in the Bible (and not necessarily the best ones, either), written in calligraphy. I hated that thing, but didn’t take it down until it almost fell down. I also bought a little denim sofa for visitors (which included youth and adults coming to me for spiritual support.) It was cute as a button, but there was a reason it was on final clearance at Pier 1. One would plop down, anticipating a soft cushion, only to find it not nearly as comfy as a cement bench. The tears shed on that sofa were more about bruised bottoms than broken hearts.
But I discovered something exciting!! It’s called executive functioning!! This is the area of the brain (the prefrontal cortex) that governs focus, control of emotions, goal-setting and some other stuff I don’t remember. And we all have it! Even me! Yippee! I’m an executive!
But THEN I discovered something else: executive dysfunction (struggles with focus, self-control, and organization.) This is caused by ADHD, depression and anxiety, and some other stuff I don’t remember. This all sounds much more “Elise,” alas.
So, I’m making an executive decision:
No more thinking about executives!
I feel so...bossy!
