I had always taken great satisfaction in my work ethic. I frequently worked late hours and carried home tasks on the weekends as a productive project manager at a busy software company.
I was able to maintain the smooth operation of the household in spite of my hard employment. I balanced groceries, chores, and the occasional get-together with friends for dinner. My spouse, Tom, was a steady accountant. He got weekends off, worked normal hours, and rarely had to stay late.
After yet another demanding workday, I came home with sore shoulders from the strain of my duties. I saw something strange on the refrigerator as I left my luggage at the entrance. A neatly drafted menu was affixed to it with a magnet, and a handwritten note in Tom’s unmistakable script read, “Cook it today.”
My blood pressure increased when I took a quick look at the menu. Each gourmet dish on the list was more intricate than the one before it: Lobster Thermidor, Coq au Vin, and Beef Wellington.
My eyes were unbelievable. Even though I put in more hours at work than Tom did, he still expected me to prepare these lavish delicacies when I got home. My first rage turned into a ruthless resolve. I grabbed my Ph.
I was astounded by his casual reply. Tom would receive excellent meals if he so desired, but not in the manner he had anticipated. I inhaled deeply in an attempt to relax. This was excessive.
When he got home, I made the decision to face him. After an hour, Tom entered while whistling a melody. “Hey, Sarah,” he exclaimed with joy. “Hey,” I said in a cold tone.
“We must speak.” He gave me a perplexed expression. “How about?” I gestured toward the refrigerator. “This menu,” Tom, still bewildered, looked at it and then back at me.
“How about it?” “After a long day of work, you expect me to prepare all these meals?” I raised my voice and asked. “Tom, I hardly have time to breathe.” He gave a shrug. I just thought it would be nice to have some variety. Your cooking is always on top, and I thought you’d enjoy it.” “Enjoy it?” I echoed, incredulous.
“I barely have time to eat, let alone cook gourmet meals.” Tom frowned. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.” “Well, it is,” I snapped. “I’m exhausted, Tom. I need help, not more work.” He looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t realize.”
I shook my head. “No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.” Tom’s frown deepened. “So now it’s my fault you’re overworked? I just wanted to eat better, Sarah.
Is that so wrong?” I felt my frustration boiling over. “Wanting to eat better isn’t wrong, but expecting me to do everything is! I’m not a machine, Tom.” “I never said you were,” he replied, his voice rising. “But you’re acting like I do nothing around here. You know, I work too. Yes, you return home to unwind after working your regular hours. I take tasks home from work, work late, and still take care of the house. How is that just? Tom raised his fists in frustration. “So, Sarah, what do you want me to do? Leave my job? Spend your days cooking at home? I gave him a scowl.
“I want you to understand my contributions and help out more. It’s about sharing responsibility, not about quitting your work. “Duties?” Tom laughed. “I take care of the auto upkeep, the yard chores, and the bills. You believe that to be insignificant? “I’m not claiming it’s insignificant,”
I answered, my voice trembling with rage. However, it’s not all of it. The everyday grind I endure is invisible to you.
I didn’t realize how unfair I was being. I thought it would be nice to have these meals, but I didn’t consider how much work it would be for you.” My expression softened slightly. “I’m glad you understand. Next time, let’s make a meal plan together that we both can manage.”
They finished their meal with a newfound respect for each other. From that day forward, Tom never made another demanding menu, and they both took turns cooking, creating simple but delicious meals together.