Just one of the great things about telecommuting (and there are many, many wonderful things— trust me) is that you don’t have to see your boss very often. I mean, my immediate supervisor lives in Hawaii, if that tells you anything.
The problem is that when you see them once every two years, you don’t know who anyone is.
My supervisor was in the area today, so the company hosted a pizza lunch for his team this afternoon. I RSVPed with, “Can I bring an obnoxious three-year-old?”
I’ve learned to set the bar low. That way when said three-year-old walks into the office, grabs a GIANT piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken and disappears for the next half hour to quietly eat in a conference room, people are really impressed.
I don’t think it hurts that I had a “little talk” with Quinn in the car before we went in, where “little talk” equals “I told him if he was good, then he would get a brownie when we got home.”
And we was good. He was so good that he charmed them into giving him the stuffed bear keychain off of the restroom key.
Of course when we got home, I had to make brownies for him (well, I was planning to make brownies anyway, but I told him they were for him). He was delighted when I gave him the mixing bowl and a spoon.
I can’t imagine how, but the first one got dirty.
And then I made the mistake of going into the bathroom for a millisecond. When I came out, he was smearing his hand all over his head and saying, “I have chocolate hair! I have chocolate hair!”
But at least he didn’t get me fired.