It isn’t often that I disagree with The New York Times, but this time, they’ve gone too far.
It was a recent “Work Friend” column that raised my hackles (and when my hackles are raised, you need a really tall ladder to get them down).
The headline, “My Boss Wants to Sleep on my Couch Every Week,” describes the dilemma a reader sent to the friendly “Work Friend” to adjudicate.
“My boss’s husband recently got a job at a university a two-hour drive from ours,” the reader wrote. “She informed me that she will come to work a few days per week and plans to stay with me overnight so she doesn’t have to commute.”
To my surprise, the usually savvy column gave the writer phenomenally bad advice: “You say ‘no.’ And you keep saying no as kindly and as firmly as possible, and as many times as needed.”
If you find yourself quivering with horror at the thought of saying no to your boss, I understand completely. Making your idiot boss believe they are a fountainhead of brilliance for everyone lucky enough to work in the shadow of their genius is an important part of your job. Perhaps the most important. And, in this case, the situation is even more fraught because, the reader reports, the boss considers their direct report to be a best friend.
Imagine, the person who controls your promotions, your raises, your entire future is having visions of pajama parties. This is a sitch you don’t want to screw up by being honest.
So, what do you say? You say “yes.”
If you still recoil from the idea of your boss coming over for a slumber soiree, “Work Friend” has ideas on how to get to “no.”
“Doing my job requires all my energy,” you could say. “After a hard day, I need space and privacy.”
Unless you are also willing to reveal that you snore and still scream from the night terrors you developed after working on that project with marketing, this technique is unlikely to work.
A better strategy is to tell your boss that her awesome responsibilities make her the person who needs space and privacy. Therefore, instead of your couch, she can have your bed. You won’t need it, because on nights she’s sleeping at your house, you’ll be sleeping at her house.
The selflessness of your proposal will surely impress the boss, and if it doesn’t, the thought of you in her house, having pillow fights with her husband, while she’s two hours away, should motivate her to make other plans.
The only situation neither the “Work Friend” nor I have addressed is far more serious. What if your boss makes the same unreasonable request, but asks someone else on the team?
You could use some of your “we time” with your bestie to mention how the alternate host just had their house sprayed for bedbugs. You could also show your boss photos of a new couch you are considering buying and confess how you wish you had her amazing sense for home design.
As your best friend, your boss will be delighted to go shopping with you and personally judge the couch for style, comfort and whether it has a built-in refrigerator to keep her favorite canned negronis chilled. Whatever monstrosity of a couch she picks, no matter how expensive, buy it on the spot.
If your boss still insists on imposing on your co-worker, find out the specific nights scheduled for sleepovers. Then, you simply drop in. Bring your sleeping bag and PJs and everyone in HR. They’re always ready for a slumber soiree.
It’s a great way to show that you are a team player. Do be sure to take photos of your happy group, clustered around the fireplace, roasting s’mores. You can expense the marshmallows and chocolate bars. When accounting flags the expense, invite them to join you for the next overnight. (Assure them they can bring their stuffies.)
Need more advice? Spend a night at my house and we’ll discuss. I’ve got a lumpy couch in the garage, but you’re welcome to it. Will I be glad to see you? No. Will it be an imposition? Yes. But it will be worth it to teach a certain newspaper a lesson.
Sorry, New York Times, but that’s the way a real “Work Friend” rolls.
(P.S.: No need to bring accounting and HR but definitely don’t forget the s’mores.)
Bob Goldman was an advertising executive at a Fortune 500 company. He offers a virtual shoulder to cry on at bob@bgplanning.com.
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