Cindy

Droog

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May 26, 2008

My Two-Year-Old: My Professional Mouthpiece

Two-year-olds love to repeat what they hear, and I’m trying to figure out exactly how to use that to enhance my professional life.

I’ve already taught him to say, “My mom rocks.” So, without a doubt, he could come with me to work one day, march into the division president’s office and say it. The only problem? He’d then get a quizzical look from the president: “Who’s your Mom?” Thankfully, my son also knows my name. “Cindy Droog,” he would proudly reply.

Sadly, he would then get another quizzical look: “Who?” So much for that idea!

Perhaps I could use his sweet innocence to relay a message to someone else’s boss, say, someone who tends to make my work life difficult.

Lucky for me, my son has great articulation for his age. He could easily walk into a director’s office and say, “Melanie is incompetent.” Melanie’s boss might not know how to respond, but surely, in the back of his mind, he’d be thinking, “I knew that. But it’s so obvious that people are talking about it at home, in front of their kids? Maybe it’s time to finally do something about it!”

I’d come in the next day, Melanie would be gone and my whole department’s life would be improved.

There are probably some ways to use his newly found “power” for good, not just for evil. He could walk into my boss’s office and say, “You’re the best,” or “You’re my mom’s hero.” I have to believe that after hearing that, my review scores would certainly tick up.

Or not. Either way, I suppose I would be better off to try to meet my yearly objectives minus the cute kid/suck-up factor.

I could have him express “his” feelings to some of the people on my team while he’s at it. He could just walk up and down the cubicle aisles yelling out words at the right people. “Funny.” “Overbearing.” “Control freak.” “Super smart!” “Mommy’s work crush.”

Oops! Actually, I hope he keeps that last one to himself!

But probably the most fun thing would be for him to comment on some of the work our company’s outside advertising agencies are doing. I can picture it now. He attends the management meeting with me. Someone pulls out the ad slick that they worked on, paid millions for, did without the creative input from those they actually pay to be creative, and that they’re super proud of.

My two-year-old son looks at it, looks around the table with his adorable big blue puppy-dog eyes, and utters, as adult-like as he can muster, “I don’t get it.”

I look at him in horror. “Wow! He’s never even seen that ad before. I don’t know where he gets that from.”

Of course, no one believes me. I join Melanie in the unemployment line where my son looks at her and says, “My mommy’s plan backfired.”

Sigh. Perhaps honesty isn’t the best policy. And perhaps I should teach my son what my mother taught me. “If you don’t have anything nice to say . . . you might want to leave the room since I can see how hard it is for you to keep your mouth shut.”

Ah, she knew me so well.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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