In my family, I’m the breadwinner. I work in a demanding role as a project manager for a tech company, pulling long hours from 8 AM to 7 PM, sometimes later. My job isn’t easy—it’s remote, but it’s draining. My husband, Mark, is a mechanic. He works hard, no doubt, but his job gives him 3-4 days off a week, whereas I only get two.
Recently, we started talking about upgrading our car. We both agreed it was time, but when we discussed how we’d pay for it, Mark dropped a bombshell: **I** should get a second job.
His reasoning? “You work from home, it’s not that tiring for you. Besides, I can’t take on another job because I need my bowling nights with the guys.”
I stared at him, speechless for a moment. Here I was, already handling the majority of the bills, working late into the evening, and he had the audacity to tell me that *I* needed to do more—so he could bowl?
“Well, if you think I need a second job, then that’s what I’ll do,” I said, trying not to show my frustration. He didn’t seem to realize how insulting it was, or maybe he just didn’t care.
So, I made a decision. If he wanted me to take on extra work, fine, but I’d choose something that would really make him rethink his lazy attitude.
A few days later, I applied for a second job as a bartender at a local pub—the one Mark and his friends frequent after their bowling games. I knew he wouldn’t be thrilled about it, but I also knew it would send a very clear message.
When I told Mark I’d landed the job, he seemed pleased at first. “Good! Extra money means we’ll get that car sooner,” he said, giving me a half-hearted pat on the back. He didn’t even bother to ask where the job was.
My first shift was the following Friday, the same night Mark goes bowling. As I stood behind the bar, serving drinks, I kept an eye on the door. Sure enough, around 9 PM, Mark and his buddies waltzed in, laughing and in high spirits.
When Mark spotted me behind the bar, his face went pale. He froze, disbelief spreading across his face as his friends nudged him, grinning. “Hey, isn’t that your wife?” one of them teased.
He walked over, eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”
“You wanted me to get a second job,” I said sweetly, smiling at him. “So here I am. Plus, now I get to see you during your bowling nights! Isn’t that great?”
His friends laughed, clearly enjoying the awkward situation. Mark, on the other hand, was not amused. He shuffled uncomfortably, realizing that his nights out with the guys wouldn’t be as carefree anymore with me serving drinks just a few feet away.
As the night wore on, I overheard his friends teasing him relentlessly. “Man, your wife’s a champ! You’ve got her working two jobs while you kick back and enjoy the good life!” Mark was visibly embarrassed, and I have to admit, I enjoyed seeing him squirm.
After my shift, we had a serious conversation. I told him that if he wanted us to afford that new car, he needed to contribute more—not just financially, but in terms of effort. I wasn’t going to carry the entire burden while he used his time off for leisure.
It was a tough talk, but it was necessary. Mark finally understood how unfair his demand had been. He realized that just because I work from home doesn’t mean my job isn’t exhausting, and that taking on even more work was not a reasonable solution—especially when he had the free time to help out.
In the end, we compromised. Mark agreed to pick up more shifts at his garage, and we decided to save for the car at a slower pace. No more ridiculous second-job demands, and he also cut back on his bowling nights to help more around the house.
It wasn’t easy, but sometimes you have to teach your partner a lesson by making them see things from your perspective—especially when they’re too blinded by their own comfort to realize how hard you’re working.
