“Sweetheart.” The sound of the normally endearing word was barely perceptible from my location in the house.
“Sweetheart!!” This time the cry was louder, more insistent and a bit less adorable. Hmm, I wonder what he wants. The master of the house was calling as he sat behind the desk in his office, thirty-some steps away. Can’t he get up and come find me instead of yelling?
I was resisting the temptation to run down the hall to see what might be so urgent when “SWEETHEART, WHERE ARE YOU, DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?” breaks the quiet again. Ok, he got my attention and, also woke our kitty, who had been soundly sleeping on the loveseat in my office. Persistent isn’t he. I poke my head in his doorway and with the sweetest of smiles I ask what he might want - this time.
These “interruptions” have become part of our daily routine. He needs something or has something to say or show me or maybe he’s just missed my company and boom, I get the “beck and call.” It matters not that I might be in the middle of something important, like folding his laundry or making dinner. Or even writing a column on how men often think nothing of interrupting women when there’s something they need or want. Nope, it matters not.
Soon thereafter, my frustration was mirrored in a text from my friend Jane. “OMG!” it read. “Can we meet for lunch? I’m about to kill Bob; if I don’t get out of the house and talk to someone, I might really become homicidal!” Over salads with our friend Pam, Jane gave us an earful: “Bob is forever calling me to come see something he is watching on the news. I am right there in the kitchen making dinner and can see the TV just fine from where I am. But no, I must stop what I’m doing and run over to see what the earth-shattering headline is. His legs aren’t broken! He could just get up and fill me in on what’s so important. I am making dinner for him you know. Can’t he just be a little more considerate?”
“Funny you should mention it, Ray does similar things all the time,” said Pam.
“I’m so used to it; I didn’t even realize how annoying it was until you brought it up. In our house, it’s ‘can you bring me something to drink,’ right after he’s sat down in front of the TV. Then ‘Can you also bring me some pretzels, I’m hungry and could use a snack.’ I’m tired of being treated like a maid; I feel like a housewife in a 50’s TV show – ‘Paaaaam, get me a beer!’”
I was relieved to know that I was not alone. It’s not like we don’t hear them calling; it’s a well-known fact that, as women and mothers, our hearing has been so fine-tuned we can hear a pin drop in a snowstorm. And we certainly don’t want to ignore anything important, it’s just that we don’t always feel like dropping everything to respond to their “911” calls.
But what to do? We batted about a few solutions like installing and using an intercom or possibly responding to them by text instead of constantly running down the hall. Or maybe we could employ the drastic measure of going on strike when it all gets to be too much. After some discussion, none of these suggestions seemed viable, but ignoring their “beck and call” tactics wasn’t really a possibility either. The real issue, we decided, was to get our men to realize just how much we do for them and not take us, and our “maid service,” for granted.
“I don’t know if we’ve resolved anything” I said as we finished lunch, “but at least I’m feeling better. Commiserating with friends helps a lot. Oh, and I’m stopping off at Barnes and Nobles on the way home to pick up our book club’s monthly selection. Do you want me to pick up copies for you too? We are re-reading and discussing ‘Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus’ when we meet next week. I’m also ordering t-shirts embroidered with ‘I’m Not Your Beck and Call Girl’ embroidered on them for everyone to wear. It should be fun.”
© 2024 Annie Sokoloff
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