The Bobington Household Job Descriptions

Dearest friends on the internet,

I regret to inform you that the Bobington household has been operating for years without accurate job descriptions. I discovered this during a routine review of the organizational chart. The woman had listed herself at the top. I stared at the document for several minutes. Then I checked to see whether it had been submitted as a joke.

It had not.

The woman genuinely believed she was Head of Household. This misunderstanding had apparently been allowed to continue for years.

Naturally, I initiated a complete organizational review.

Every household member was asked to submit a written description of their current position and measurable contributions to the continued operation of the Bobington Household.

Cooper ate his form. Daisy returned hers with “Not Applicable” written across every section. Miss Frankie refused to participate because, according to her attorney, members of upper management are not required to explain themselves.

The woman submitted four pages…of course she did.

I began with Cooper.

“What is your official position in this household?” I asked.

“Friend.”

“That is not a position.”

“Best friend?”

“No.”

“Goodest boy?”

“That is a title awarded by strangers who do not have access to your complete personnel file.”

Cooper wagged his tail. He considered this positive feedback.

After reviewing his daily activities, I assigned Cooper the title of Director of Neighborhood Relations and Unnecessary Investigations.

His responsibilities include introducing himself to every human, dog, child, delivery driver, lawn ornament, and suspiciously shaped shrub within a three-mile radius. Cooper believes there are no strangers…only friends he has not yet pulled the woman toward at alarming speed.

He is remarkably committed to public outreach.

During a typical walk, Cooper attempts to visit seventeen yards, examine the underside of six bushes, roll on at least one patch of questionable grass, and personally welcome every resident who has made the mistake of stepping outside.

The woman claims the purpose of the walk is exercise. Cooper understands that it is a diplomatic mission.

He also serves as Senior Scent Analyst. A normal dog might sniff a shrub and continue walking. Cooper conducts a full forensic examination. He studies the left side. He studies the right side. He circles the shrub. He compares his findings with historical scent records. The woman waits at the other end of the leash, questioning every choice that brought her to this moment.

Cooper’s performance is strong in enthusiasm, friendliness, and shrub-related research. He requires improvement in leash management, bee avoidance, and recognizing when a social interaction has ended.

Last week, a neighbor said, “Well, I’d better get inside.” Cooper interpreted this as the beginning of a deeper conversation.

His employment will continue under close supervision.

Next, I met with Daisy.

Daisy was beneath a blanket and declined to come out. I explained that attendance was mandatory. She explained that the blanket was warm.

We reached an impasse. I conducted the meeting from beside the blanket.

“Miss Daisy, how would you describe your role in the household?”

“Essential.”

“Please be more specific.”

“No.”

Daisy performs very little physical labor, refuses outdoor assignments in unfavorable weather, and routinely sleeps through scheduled meetings. Yet nearly every household activity is arranged around her preferences.

I was forced to recognize her as Executive Director of Personal Comfort and Domestic Compliance.

Daisy’s responsibilities include monitoring blanket temperature, meal preparation, lap availability, indoor climate, and the precise location of the woman at all times. The household must never be too cold, too noisy, too breezy, too late with breakfast, or insufficiently attentive to Daisy.

If the woman moves while Daisy is sleeping against her, Daisy opens one eye and produces a look generally reserved for serious betrayals. The woman may offer an explanation. Daisy does not accept explanations. She accepts corrections.

Daisy also serves as Director of Scheduling. Breakfast should occur immediately after waking. Lunch should occur immediately after breakfast. Dinner should occur while lunch is still being discussed. Snacks should fill any dangerous gaps between meals.

I asked whether she had identified any opportunities to improve her own performance. She said the household could improve its performance. Then she requested a raise.

Her request remains under review.

Miss Frankie was next.

I found her sitting on the kitchen counter beside the organizational chart.

“Miss Frankie,” I said, “you are not permitted on the counter.”

She looked at me. I withdrew the comment. One must choose one’s battles, particularly when negotiating with a tuxedo cat who has access to legal counsel.

Miss Frankie had appointed herself Chief Operating Officer. After extensive negotiations, she was named Chief Operating Officer of Ground-Based Activities.

Her duties include observing, judging, withholding information, inspecting grocery bags, monitoring food preparation, and appearing silently behind the woman whenever privacy would be preferable.

Miss Frankie possesses remarkable executive instincts. She does not chase approval. She does not explain her decisions. She does not attend meetings that could have been avoided by leaving her alone.

When the household becomes chaotic, she simply moves to higher ground and watches everyone make mistakes.

This is leadership.

Frankie also supervises all boxes entering the premises. No box may be discarded until she has sat in it, rejected it, reclaimed it after someone attempts to remove it, and finally ignored it for three consecutive days.

The woman once threw away a box after Frankie had shown no interest in it for an entire week. Frankie searched for that box for two hours.

The woman has not repeated the error.

Frankie’s personnel file contains no documented weaknesses because Frankie personally removed that section.

This brings us to the woman.

She described her position as Head of Household, Creative Director, Project Manager, Animal Care Coordinator, Financial Administrator, Groundskeeper, Writer, Cook, Housekeeper, and General Person in Charge.

Ambitious.

Incorrect, but ambitious.

According to my investigation, the woman spends her days feeding everyone, cleaning up after everyone, distributing medicine, washing blankets, coordinating appointments, maintaining the house, working on several large projects, and purchasing expensive items that the household immediately refuses to use.

This is not executive leadership. This is support staff.

The woman’s official title is now Household Intern and Director of Things Everyone Assumed Would Happen by Themselves.

She also serves as Chief Door Operator. This is a demanding position.

Cooper wants the door open because something may be happening outside. Daisy wants the door closed because outside air has entered the building. Frankie wants it left slightly open so she may spend several minutes deciding whether to pass through it.

The woman must remain stationed nearby throughout these deliberations. She is not permitted to rush anyone. The vile beasts waited all day for her to open that door. They are entitled to consider their options.

The woman is also responsible for Food Service, although customer satisfaction remains low.

Cooper sometimes refuses the meal placed before him and then attempts to eat something found near a storm drain. Daisy believes every portion is inadequate. Frankie wishes to inspect the woman’s food before deciding whether her own is acceptable.

The woman occasionally prepares something for herself. This attracts the immediate attention of the entire department. Last week, she sat down with a sandwich. Within seconds, she was surrounded by three animals who had eaten less than an hour earlier and were now behaving as though charitable intervention might be required.

The woman said, “You have your own food.”

Nobody found this relevant.

In addition to her household duties, the woman has been creating, writing, designing, sorting, planning, and building several things at once. She refers to these as her projects.

The committee refers to them as Additional Evidence That the Intern Requires Supervision.

Every few days, the woman announces that she has had a new idea. This phrase now triggers an automatic alert in my Heavenly Supervisory Office.

The last “small idea” required three notebooks, a spreadsheet, multiple orders from the internet, and a discussion that continued until nearly three o’clock in the morning.

The woman insists she works best at night. The household supports this arrangement because she works from bed, thereby providing an expanded sleeping surface for animals who already occupy most of it.

I reviewed her performance carefully.

She carries too many things at once because making two trips would apparently violate a deeply held principle. She begins cleaning one drawer and somehow ends up reorganizing an unrelated cabinet on the other side of the house. She makes lists and then creates additional lists explaining the first lists.

Still, the household is fed. The blankets are warm. The doors open. The doors close. Appointments are remembered. Medicine is given. Projects move forward.

Everyone knows where to find her.

The woman may not be Head of Household, but the household does seem to arrange itself around the certainty that she is there.

I found this relevant.

She has learned that Cooper needs patience when enthusiasm overtakes judgment. She has learned that Daisy’s tiny body contains the expectations of a nineteenth-century duchess. She has learned that Miss Frankie’s affection is quiet, selective, and often delivered while standing directly on something the woman needs.

She has learned each meal, medicine, routine, worry, and look. She has learned to care for everyone exactly as they are.

This is not the same as being in charge. It may be more important.

I considered promoting her. Then Cooper needed to go outside. Daisy required a blanket adjustment. Frankie was sitting beside a water bowl that was not actually empty but had apparently become unacceptable for reasons known only to Frankie.

The woman handled all three matters without convening a committee.

I revised her title.

Effective immediately, the woman shall serve as Vice President of Everything That Matters.

She will retain her duties in food service, transportation, door operations, medicine distribution, blanket management, emotional support, and locating objects directly in front of other household members.

She will report to me. Everyone reports to me.

Miss Frankie has disputed this provision, but the matter is being reviewed by an impartial committee chaired by…me.

The new organizational chart has now been posted.

At the top is Bob: Heavenly Supervisor and Supreme Administrative Authority. Directly beneath me is Miss Frankie: Chief Operating Officer of Ground-Based Activities. Daisy serves as Executive Director of Personal Comfort and Domestic Compliance. Cooper is Director of Neighborhood Relations and Unnecessary Investigations.

And the woman is Vice President of Everything That Matters.

The woman examined the chart.

“You do realize,” she said, “that I’m still doing all the work.”

I summoned the Stern Look. She returned to her duties.

The organizational review is complete. Morale remains high. Productivity is difficult to measure.

Lunch is late.

Very truly yours,

Bob
Angel Cat
Heavenly Supervisor of Bobington
Supreme Administrative Authority
Chairman of the Committee That Appointed Bob Chairman

P.S. Cooper has requested that “Professional Shrub Smeller” be added to his title. The request was denied because the new organizational chart is already four pages long.