A screaming child is like a forensics tool. Bring one into the room, and anyone who isn’t a parent gets immediately and obviously grumpy.
That whole changing-diapers-while-on-a-conference-call is a nice sound bite for the blog, but it doesn’t always work. After all, sometimes I run the phone meetings, which means my phone is un-muted almost the whole time. I can get important calls at inopportune times, too, and still answer them. And if I’m ever on a phone call at the exact moment my kids wake from their naps — their cries for Daddy amplified over the monitor — it’s nearly impossible to react quickly enough.
“Are those your kids?”
Among any parents on the call, I’m immediately forgiven. “How old are they?” and “Boy or girl?” are the big questions. My fellow parents wax nostalgic about their once-small children, maybe get a little envious. For everyone else, though, the feedback is ominous. ”Do you need to go?” and “I thought you had a nanny” seem to top the list. If it’s a conference call, I might hear somsething like this: “While Seth takes care of his kids, why doesn’t David talk about….” It’s as if I tore open the back of my pants, and everyone is pretending it’s okay.
Phone calls offer people a quick and intimate listen at your world, and enabling that listen is unprofessional. But to walk away from my children when I need to concentrate on my words, or to hear without interference, is an emotionally violent act, like slamming a door. But the polite daddy-is-on-the-phone-right-now compromise works only for a few seconds. At these moments, I have no choice but to hope there are some other parents on the call who will cover for me when my honest professionalism gets interrupted.
I need a telephone switchboard with extra buttons for my kids, like Mute and Hold. In the meantime, my kids are a busy signal.