That Moral Compass is Questioned

Chappy had been working out of Chicago for some time now.  We had moved to Indiana in 1994 and in early 1995, he was promoted to the regional office in Schaumburg, Illinois. He was a National Account Executive so he traveled all over the United States.  I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he was promoted to the home office in Atlanta, Georgia.  We had talked about it and I didn't see an urge to move to the Chicago area, if we would just turn around and move to Atlanta.

In the spring of 1998, Chappy won a trip to Bermuda, all expenses paid, for being one of the top twenty salesman for Crawford and Company.  It was quite a feather in his cap.  I was so proud of him.  I knew years ago when I had recommended him to a friend, that if he got on board, he'd soar with the eagles.

He was thirty five years old and was an Assistant Vice President of National Sales.  It came at a cost though, he was never home. He continued to fly in and fly out staying long enough to unpack, do laundry, pack and leave again.

During the years we were married, I adjusted to being alone. Inside I would think that "some day" he'd reach his white pillar and we could enjoy spending time together besides just on vacation.  But when you are married to a workaholic, the pillar is merely a lay over until the next destination is announced. They are never happy unless they are chasing some thing. 

At some point in life you have to stop and ask yourself, "is this worth it?" The titles, the pay increases, the demands of your time.  You are only given so many hours on this Earth, do you want to lay on your death bed with only memories of working?

Bermuda 1998

I had a goal years ago.  I wanted to be a claims manager.  I don't want to promote myself any further. I am at a point in my life that I am comfortable.  I do not want to move.  I do not want more stress in my life.  I make a comfortable wage that allows me to provide rather nicely for myself and I have nights and weekends off.

Chappy worked all the time.  When we would go on our two week vacation, I would ask him to not work. This was our time, but he couldn't do it.  He'd bring his lap top and phone and he'd work through out our vacation.  

He was a morning and night person.  The man could survive on three hours of sleep and then once every few months, he'd crash for an entire day on the couch and hit the road running again. He would get up early on our vacations and set his stuff up on the dining room table. I'd wake up and he'd be on the phone, clearing his voice mail, catching up on emails, setting appointments, just always working.

Our time at Thanksgiving was two to three days with my parents, three to four days at the condo in Fort Myers Beach and a week on a tropical island, or maybe just another week at the condo.

In hindsight, Chappy used his work to avoid things.  When my parents would come home in the spring or head to Florida in the fall, they stopped and spent a few days. Not a week or weeks, a few days.  They would usually pull in on a Friday and spend the weekend.  Monday, when I left for work they were bound for their destination.  Two times a year.  Is it too much to ask that your husband be home on that particular Friday night, two times a year and spend the weekend with your parents?  God knows I put my time in on weekends with his at least twice a month.

Bermuda 1998

Chappy could never make it home. Any other Friday night, he pulled in at five or six, we'd changed go to dinner and a movie or his family would be around.  We would either be driving back to Michigan or they were waiting for us to get home.  But those two weekends a year, Chappy never got home before eleven at night.

My mom would always comment about how he never could make it home when they were there and I always covered for him.  "He's busy at work."  For him to get home that late, meant he was leaving work well after quitting time and I would have to believe no one else was staying late on a Friday night.

He'd get up early and take Dad with him golfing, sometimes meeting his former boss, Paulie for a round.  My Dad, never shared the stories of those Saturday mornings until Chappy and I were divorced.  Perhaps things would have been different had he not kept those secrets from me.

When he'd get home from playing golf, he'd do yard work.  He did every thing possible to avoid spending time with us.  Min would not have allowed that had the shoe been on the other foot.  I know for a fact she wouldn't cause things I did that were no where in comparison to this, she'd talk to Chappy about.

But getting back to Bermuda, the company  President at the time was named Dennis and he concocted this incentive trip awarding it to his top twenty sales people.  We all flew to Atlanta to fly as a group to Bermuda.  I knew a lot of the sales people from the many years I used Crawford in my own line of work.  I sat in the airport watching all the employees and their spouses gather at the gate and I noticed several people who were "extras."  Women in particular.  Dennis was not traveling with his wife, apparently she had a headache that was expected to last five days, or maybe her headache was getting on the plane and leaving for five days, I'm not sure, but I'm betting it was the latter.

Two women were traveling, neither of them were sales people.  One was an Administrative Assistant to another Vice President and one was, mysterious. They appeared to be traveling as a twosome, but something in my gut said they were part of a threesome.

Awards Dinner - Bermuda

My fine detective skills were right on target.  The  mysterious woman was a beautiful young lady who had managed to work her way up the ladder quickly and was Dennis's mistress.  The Administrative Assistant was eye candy, so that it appeared these two women were needed to coordinate the  weekends festivities.  I don't think they were coordinating the festivities for the group though.

Chappy confirmed what I had figured out.  Blondie was the mistress, wifey wasn't coming and Adm Assist was a cover.  How could a man in his position bring his mistress on a company gathering when every one suspected they were "together."

The week was filled with a lot of fun activities.  Blondie and Dennis were rarely seen except when necessary.  Adm Assist was often among the crowd flying solo, I guess part of her twosome was taking dictation to memorialize the events of this trip.  Top of the line for every thing, no limits on expenses. One evening our dinner was on a cruise ship, reserved just for our party.  The ship took us  around the island so we could see it from the water.  Dinner was spectacular.  Every night we'd have  a mattress full of  presents that commemorated our day on the  island.

Chappy saw this behavior of Dennis and was sickened by it.  We had a long discussion about his flaunting his mistress in front of every one and no one saying a word.  When we left Bermuda, Chappy told me he would never work for that man directly and we both knew if he was promoted to Atlanta, he would be reporting to him.

So with that said, we decided to move to Chicago.  That was our final destination.  Chappy had no desire to move to the home office setting as long as Dennis was at the helm. 

We started looking for homes in and around Schaumburg.  It took a while as we were comparing the areas to Fishers Indiana and we were not finding any houses comparable to ours, within our price range.  So, we moved the perimeters out further in hope of finding some thing we both liked.  

Our New Home - Naperville, Illinois

Traffic in the Chicago area and its suburbs is a nightmare.  We found a house in Naperville. The downtown was quaint.  The house was on the outer skirts of the city limits.  I had been the one doing the house hunting on line and I found several that we were going to look at one weekend.

I drove up to Schaumburg and we stayed in the same hotel that Chappy had been living out of for most of four years when he wasn't flying all over the place.  We drove out to this house first and just like the house in Lansing and the house in Fishers, when I walked in the front door, I knew I was home.