My wife and I were both managers. When we retired, we set 3 marriage rules so we wouldn't micromanage each other.

Business Insider

6 days ago

I was a lawyer running my own practice. My wife was a social worker. We guided other people through the intricacies of complex bureaucracies for a living. We used to decompress by talking about our days at the kitchen table. Her enemies became mine, and my enemies became hers. It was the two of us against the world.
Then we retired — her first, then me. With both of us home and without the routine we'd become used to, there was no common enemy, and gradually, we began trying to micromanage each other.
As time went on, we grew concerned about how this tendency would affect our marriage. Being good managers, we derived a set of guidelines to protect our continued health as an organization.
No Lists
In our professions, we kept many lists. One such list was for things we'd bring up during performance reviews for those who worked under us.
Out of habit, we continued to make lists after retirement.
In the back of our minds, each of us kept a list of things the other person did poorly or not at all around the house. I might point out to my wife a more efficient system for keeping our saltshakers full. Rather than thanking me for my wise observation, she'd tell me how I could improve the way I park in the garage. I'd bring up the fact that air conditioning doesn't work if one leaves the windows open, and she'd ask why some people feel the need to leave three pairs of shoes abandoned in the living room.
These stored-up complaints would spew out onto our kitchen table during discussions, leaving hurt feelings and unpleasant evenings in their wake. Every issue was trivial, but long lists of trivial things make a heavy load for a marriage to carry.
So we decided, no lists. Neither of us was an employer or underling. If she did something that annoyed me, I had to bring it up immediately, or the objection was waived. The same applied to her.
Frequently, I'd let the time for making a complaint pass and regret that I didn't say something, but then later, when I was less hungry or tired, I'd wonder why something so trivial ever even bothered me. Our home life improved immediately. Maybe my professional life would've been better had I banished similar lists about things my direct reports did, too.
No shoulds
My wife and I were both kind and helpful managers who guided others through professional difficulties.
As retirees, when we both relax in our respective La-Z-Boys listening to NPR, it's inevitable that one of us will have a suggestion about how the other person could be happier, such as by joining a bridge club, volunteering at the local animal shelter, or learning to play the harmonica. The temptation is to then start a conversation with the sentence, "You should."
This is a mistake. The spouse receiving the suggestion, being a lifelong manager, already knows what needs to be done, and nobody likes unsolicited advice. It comes off as bossy and condescending.
When I have an idea to improve my wife's life, I've decided I must lead by example rather than using "you should." If I rise from my La-Z-Boy and exercise or join a bridge club, surely she'll see the joy the activity brings me and go into action herself.
I can't say the lead-by-example strategy has ever spurred her to change her behavior, but it has been a great success in avoiding arguments.
Our marriage has improved significantly by expelling "you should" from the house. We're also working on getting rid of other accusatory sentence starters, like "You always," and "Why are you doing that?"
No supervising
I know how to dice an onion. My method is safe, efficient, and produces perfectly uniform dice. If my wife dices an onion, I have to leave the room.
I dislike the way she does it. Seeing her waste an extra 45 seconds of our valuable retirement with her slower chopping, only to get a less uniform dice, causes me physical pain. My choices are to suffer pain, violate the previous rule about sentences that begin with "you should," or leave the room.
The right choice is to leave the room. It's not easy. The urge to ensure things get done according to my own liking didn't instantly disappear when I left the workplace.
Vacuuming isn't one of my ordinary household duties. As I toiled to vacuum one day, inventing new techniques as I went, I looked over at my wife. On her face was the same pain I felt watching her cut onions. I love her and don't want her to suffer. I no longer vacuum while she's around to see me do it.
As my wife and I have grown older, health problems have arisen, and at times, each of us has been called on to do housework that's ordinarily done by the other. When that occurs, we must complete those jobs in solitude, in a place where the other cannot see. Doing this makes the days pass more smoothly for both of us.
Today, my wife and I have a peaceful retirement and a strong marriage
Despite the challenges of aging and failing health, my wife and I are getting along well in retirement, in part thanks to banishing the tenets we lived by as managers.
Banishing lists, shoulds, and supervision has left our humble home in relative peace. In my working life, I used these methods because I was taught them by the managers who trained me. Looking back, I can't help but wonder if those were the best approaches to management.