After reading about our leaving Tsawwassen, it may seem like the whole process was all about satisfying me.  Me, me, me.  And, to a large extent, that impression would be accurate.  But a small part was entirely for Sally’s benefit.  Even though she was committed to the middle management fast track and more than ‘groomed-to-zoom’ up the institutional ladder, it was killing her.  She, too, needed to get out. 

OK, it was killing me but it wasn’t doing her any good, either.  

Sally handled her first designated management position at the WCB with aplomb.  After all, if she could manage the three of us, our home, the PTA and her previous executive assistant positions plus oversee a complex social schedule for all of us, managing a single department within the massive bureaucracy that is the WCB was a piece of cake.  She shone like a diamond amongst turds.  Hard not to see………….even amongst the brain dead that were her supervisors.

So, what did they do?  They gave her a second department in addition to the first, of course.  You know the old bureaucrat’s motto, Keep piling on the straw to the camel’s back until it breaks!

But she’s tougher than that and handled the double load like a colossus.  ‘Course, by this time, I was doing a bit o’ cookin’ so that helped.  Kinda.  OK, not so much but at least I wasn’t causing problems.  OK, maybe a few………….never mind!

Anyway, they then gave her a third department.  And then some ‘special projects’.  It was clear to me, anyway, that nobody but Sally was doing anything at the WCB.

Hell, one day some nutbar came into the main foyer yelling for someone’s head and who do you think goes out to quell the riot?  Sal, of course.  Bottom line: they were burning her candle from both ends.

I was pretty supportive (in my own way) and started to nag, whine and complain about her coming home late (I needed her to save the dinner) and so she started to come home on time, at least.  Took me about a week to notice that she was doing this by getting up two hours earlier and going to work by 6:00 am.

The bastards were wearing the sheen off the diamond.  Unbelievable.  The most beautiful smile in the world began to dim.  Her rosy cheeks disappeared.  She was beginning to (gasp) lack energy!  It was time to get her the hell out of that cesspool and so I suggested that she consider……maybe……kinda……….sorta…….like……..retire…..ing?

She’d have none of it.  So, I pulled out the big inducement:  “You know, if you quit and we leave and go somewhere and do something healthy and have some fun, I will, I promise, get you any dog you want.  That’s right – ANY dog you want.  ANY!”

I almost had her.  I could see her wavering.  She shook her head slowly ‘NO’ but it was not heartfelt.  The heart wanted the dog.  ‘D-O-G’, I whispered.  I subtly hung out my tongue a bit and breathed heavily……………‘d-o-g’……………..a little whimper slipped out…………I tried to wag………………….‘a puppy, Sal.  A little p-u-p-p-y……………….’

“Right”, she said, “a dog it is.  A Portuguese Water Dog.  I want a PWD.  That’s it!  I’m quitting this rotten rat race and taking my dog and……….(well, you too, I suppose)………….and blowing this chicken coop!  Wahoo!”  

So, you see.  It wasn’t all about me.