The day James closed his office door and told me a raise had been approved, I was sure I had misheard him. I hadn’t asked for one, and I hadn’t had a review in ages. What I didn’t know yet was that my daughter’s question, asked while I was out of the room, had set the whole thing in motion.
Becca was five at the time. She was curious, honest to a fault, and completely unaware that some thoughts are meant to stay inside your head. That honesty ended up teaching me more about my own life than any performance review ever could.
How My Daughter’s Question Began on Bring Your Kid to Work Day
When my office announced Bring Your Kid to Work Day, Becca begged to come along. I nearly said no, mostly because I worried she’d say something awkward in front of my boss. In the end, her excitement won.
She was up before my alarm that morning, dressed in her yellow cardigan, carrying a little notebook and far more crayons than any one person could need. By eight o’clock, she was gripping my hand in the lobby and asking whether the printer knew she was coming.
I set her up beside my desk with snacks and paper. Almost right away, the usual stream started. A coworker needed a report checked, someone couldn’t find a file, and a new assistant had a question about a procedure.
Becca watched every one of them walk away. Then she leaned over and asked if I was the one who told everybody what to do. I laughed and said no, and she frowned at my screen, wondering out loud why they all kept coming to me.
Later, when that same assistant came back with a question she’d already asked twice, Becca decided the woman must be a student and I must be her teacher. I smiled it off and went back to my inbox. It never crossed my mind how closely she was watching.
Twenty Minutes Alone With My Boss
By lunch, Becca had met most of my team, including James. He was lovely with her. He gave her sticky notes, let her draw a crooked rainbow on his whiteboard, and showed her the candy bowl on his desk.
She took one piece, then politely asked whether grownups were allowed two. He handed her another and joked that she’d make a great negotiator. I wanted to sink into the carpet.
Then my phone rang with a work problem I couldn’t put off. James offered to keep an eye on Becca, and I slipped into a conference room expecting a quick call. It took twenty minutes.
When I came back, Becca was sitting in his chair, drawing. James stood by the window, and the look he gave me was hard to read. He wasn’t upset. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind.
