Mr. Spit and I bought a new car 2 weeks ago. (I know, I’m sorry, I meant to tell you.) We bought the car to go to Costco and the hardware store and drive in the winter. Holly is wonderful, but she’s not the greatest winter car. She’s low to the ground and powerful and rear wheel drive can make winter driving an adventure.
Look, I’m a car person.
This is a bit of a strange thing for a woman, but there you have it. I like cars. I read about cars. I know a bit about cars. I can, for example, tell you the difference between a straight 6 and a V6, and why you might want one or the other.
So, it was a strange sort of thing when the salesman (who was delightful) kept telling me about the capacity and told me the sport button would make life fun and told me that there was another car which was a total “girl” car. The Mister, on the other hand got the engine specs and the information on the chassis.
This isn’t a ranting screed about the misogyny of car dealerships.
Rather, it’s more of a post about how our marriage tends to work. I sometimes joke that we are the Spit corporation. I’m the Chief Finance Officer. Mr. Spit is the Chief Technology officer. He’s the Chief Compliance Officer, I’m the Chief Operating Officer. He’s the Head of HR.
We are both the CEO.
Perhaps it’s not typical, but I was off visiting someone else last night, and I realized, this is rare. We each know what our strengths and weaknesses are, and in the middle of that, we capitalize on them. Mr. Spit is good at spatial stuff. I’m good at moving us toward a common goal and being efficient. I have lists. He figures out how to make things work.
And it’s us. The Corporation of the Spits.
We are kind to each other. We speak well of each other. We resolve our differences together. We honour each other.
And it is a profitable company. Oh, not always in money, but the two shareholders are happy and realizing gains, and I realized last night how rare of a thing that is.