THE BLOG

Men In Suits

04/06/2015 03:44 pm ET | Updated Jun 06, 2015

It's hard for me to feel important. Basically, I am an unpaid maid, cook and laundry room lady. Let's face it; those jobs are hard even when you are paid to do them. When you do them every day for over 30 years with no pay, you start to wonder what would happen if you demanded a salary.

Would my family fire me? Would they drown in dirty laundry? Probably not. Knowing my boys, they would just keep wearing dirty clothes until their girlfriends made them learn how to operate the washer and dryer.

A few weeks ago, I got a taste of what it's like to be important. I was one of four women who put together and hosted a conference. The hotel where we held the event was huge and the logistics of getting everything and everyone where they needed to be was complicated. A helpful employee of the hotel gave me a business card and told that if I needed anything, I was to call the number on the card and I would receive immediate assistance.

When I get nervous I am very forgetful, so I knew better than to put the card in my purse. Instead, I taped it to the back of my phone with tape. I knew there was no way I would misplace my phone.

This is what happened.

During the conference, I needed more chairs. I dialed the number and four men in suits showed up with chairs.

One of the attendees spilled something in the hallway. I dialed the number and four men in suits appeared and cleaned up the mess.

One of our sponsors wanted their display moved to a different area. I dialed the number and four men in suits moved the display in a matter of minutes.

I decided that the number on the card had to be magic. I have never, ever been able to summon four men to do my bidding, and especially not men in suits. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could lay down in the middle of the kitchen floor and scream for help and no one at my house would even hear me (they wear earbuds).

For one short weekend, I was queen of the castle and those four men in suits were my servants.

I. Loved. It.

The Real World

After the conference, I came home to my real life. The one where people expect me to find whatever it is they have lost, wash their laundry and cook for them. I think I know how Cinderella felt when she had to leave the ball at midnight. Being a peon sucks after you've tasted the good life.

Yesterday, my husband and sons noticed the business card taped to the back of my phone and asked what it was for. It's dirty now and the tape is starting to peel off, but I can't bear to part with it. I told them it was a magic number and serves as a reminder of the one weekend of my life where I was a queen.

They just laughed.

By the way, just in case you are thinking of calling the magic number on the card, they don't do house calls. I tried and they laughed even louder than my husband and my sons.

I guess it's time to take the card off my phone but I'm not giving up on magic. I found my granddaughter's wand and I'm going to try it on the laundry. Think it will work?

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