He had done it again. They had their work day planned out, but once again their boss had other plans for them to do something far less useful. Robyn was angry as she slammed the box down onto the pile. “Why does he do this every single day? He knows we have all of those filings that have to be ready for Monday. It’s like he wants us to fail. This stuff can wait.”
Bodhi set down her box neatly on the pile. “Do you have fun plans for the weekend?” she asked, smiling.
“Don’t change the subject. You’re always smiling, always happy. He does this to us every day! We would get twice as much done if we didn’t have a boss.” Bodhi just smiled in agreement. “Why do you just take this and never complain?”
Bodhi stopped and looked at Robyn inquisitively. “Would complaining change it?”
Her tone was so genuine it ruffled Robyn. “That’s the only power we have. Maybe if his life is miserable enough he’ll actually considering doing something the smart way.”
“Arent you just torturing yourself? And I also think his life is not short of misery.”
“Good.” Robyn moves another box, but she likes the idea of her boss suffering. “Wait–why?”
Bodhi catches her look and answers, “Have you seen his wife drop him off in the morning?”
“The hag that’s always yelling?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I wonder which is the chicken and which is the egg?”
You can see the wheels turning in Robyn’s head as she tries to figure out what Bodhi meant. “You mean, did she get bitchy because he’s an idiot, or did he become an idiot because she’s bitchy?” Bodhi nods. “What difference does it make? We still have an idiot for a boss either way.”
“My father was very controlling of my mother. It caused a lot of battles between her and my brothers and sisters.”
“But let me guess; you took it just fine.”
“I noticed that after being controlled so badly, my mother needed to exercise some control. Almost to–I don’t know–get her equilibrium back.”
“So you’re saying after your Dad was a jerk your mother over-compensated and she was a jerk too?”
“I think that’s how my brothers and sisters saw it, but they saw me as spoiled because my mother was better with me.”
“Were you the baby?”
“No. But I was the only one who let her regain her balance.”
“What do you mean?”
Bodhi thought for a moment. “It’s like Mr. Dillon. He begins his day by feeling attacked and belittled but reacting will only make things worse. Once his wife is gone, Mr. Dillon is like my mother–he needs to regain his balance.”
“So he abuses us to feel more in control? Is that what you’re saying? Great. So we have a ten year old for a boss.” She slams down her box into the pile.
Bodhi stops, causing Robyn to pause as well. Bodhi points to a stress crease in the box Robyn just slammed down. “More human than child. Mr. Dillon treats you badly and you treat this box badly and it gets these lines; these bends in the corner that make the box less stable when we stack them.”
“It helps me work out my frustrations to pretend the box is his face.” They both laugh.
“Could we be Mr. Dillon’s boxes?”
Robyn pauses and gives that a serious think. “Wait. So you’re saying that the way he treats us after his wife is the way I treat these boxes after I deal with him?” Bodhi nods, wondering. “Well if he is, then he’s definitely putting some wrinkles into my corners too.”
Bodhi laughs as Robyn slams down another box. “No offense Robyn, but I think you put those on yourself.”
“Yeah, well it made me feel better.”
“That’s why I never mind doing things like this.”
“You don’t mind that he distracts us from important work to do stupid grunt tasks?”
“My brothers and sisters thought I was sucking up to my mother by always making her tea after my father left.”
“I was helping her return to balance so that she and I could begin our day in peace. My brothers and sisters would fight with her for the rest of the day.”
Robyn throws the last one on top. She seems unconvinced. “So you’re saying that the reason stacking this crap doesn’t bother you is because to you it’s not stacking boxes, it’s returning Mr. Dillon to equilibrium?”
Bodhi smiles. “I must meet people where I find them.” They walk together to the coffee room and each pours a fresh cup.
“Is that why you have fewer wrinkles than me even though I’m half your age?”
“No. That’s just because I’m Asian.” They laugh together. Bodhi looks at the clock. “Only half an hour. And now we have the rest of the day to get important things done.”
“Fine. I’ll trade a dumb half hour to have peace the rest of the day. But I still want to sneak a dating app onto Dillon’s phone. Maybe if he had a nicer wife we’d have a nicer boss.”
Bodhi smiles, accusing, “Aren’t those apps where you get your dates Robyn…?”
“Uh, yeah, fat chance. That is one grenade I’m not willing to jump on for my coworkers.”
Bodhi laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day Robyn.”
Robyn smiles. “Thanks Bodhi. You too.”
Scott McPherson is an Edmonton-based writer, public speaker, and mindfulness facilitator who works with individuals, companies and non-profit organizations locally and around the world.
Following a serious childhood brain injury Scott McPherson unwittingly spent his entire life meditating on the concepts of thought, consciousness, reality and the self. This made him as strange to others as they were to him. Seeing the self-harm people created with their own overthinking, Scott dedicated part of his life to helping others live with greater awareness. He is currently a writer, speaker and mindfulness instructor based in Edmonton, AB, where he finds it strange to write about himself in the third person.