The more I focused on my own needs, the easier it became to say, Look, if you, Norman Brodsky, really do care more about the business than you do about this family, then please go get yourself an apartment and live in the city. If what you truly value in life are the fancy cars, expensive restaurants, and the monetary rewards of running a multimillion-dollar company, then fine, have your company . . . but plan to enjoy it by yourself. I hope you're going to be very happy, because this is not what I signed up for. I want more from my marriage.
Over the years, I was watching Norman go through major changes of his own. More and more, it seemed, the "family" that had rallied together to build Perfect Courier was falling apart. First, there was a young man whom Norman so identified with that he talked about grooming him as his eventual successor. Something about this person's behavior concerned us, and I began to suspect that he might have a drug problem. "Nonsense," said Norman. "You take a course in drug counseling, Elaine, and suddenly everyone's a coke freak." In this case, unfortunately, I was right. The story ended tragically with the young man's suicide, and Norman was devastated. It was the first personal crisis for us in terms of the company, but it would not be the last.
A few years ago, Norman found out that a trusted employee was stealing from the company. Neither of us could believe it at first -- it simply could not be, we told ourselves -- but the evidence was overwhelming. Norman went into mourning, as if there had been a death in the family. In a way, there had been. This was one of the people who had been with him for years. Friendships were shattered because of the incident. People blamed Norman for allowing it to happen. Even now, when some of us get together, we go over the details again and again, still not quite believing it happened.
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Although I do not work side by side with my husband, I was affected by these events because they affected Norman so deeply, and because I believe women are naturally more attuned to emotional issues in the first place. We feel things in a different way, we pay more attention to the human undercurrents -- or so my talking to other spouses has convinced me. And the types of business issues Norman discusses with me are people related -- I'm his emotional sounding board. But what's exciting for the CEO-husband -- taking his company public, for instance, which Norman did in 1986, or getting ready to make that first big acquisition -- may not have the same emotional charge for those who live with him. I can be supportive and sympathetic to what Norman's going through with his company, but that doesn't mean I share all his values or ideals. I don't read the stock tables every day. I don't fantasize about driving a Rolls-Royce or care about material things the way he does. I'd rather run a nursery school and my household than a fast-growth company.
When Norman started buying up other companies, he was like a kid in a candy store, a regular King Midas -- he believed everything he touched would turn to gold. I understood his need to expand the business, but it wasn't my need. He was doing the buying, but I wasn't buying into it, if you know what I mean. When he was out of line in our relationship, I told him so. In fact, a therapist we once worked with told Norman that I was the only person who had the nerve to stand up to him. Maybe that's true -- once I had learned how to stand up for myself.
If it affects me directly, I get involved -- even when it comes to the company. In 1984, Norman decided to buy out his original investors. There had been some strains developing among them, and since it was my future as well as his that was on the line, I needed to satisfy myself that the company was on sound footing. So I went in and asked questions. "Is Norman OK," I asked one of the investors, "or is something going on here that I don't know about?" I even told one of the key employees, "Look, you can lie to me if you want to, but I'm here because I stand to lose as much as anybody if Perfect Courier goes down the drain. And you stand to lose because you'll be out there on the street with me." Norman understood why I had to do this. Maybe some of the others didn't, but he did.
Norman, meanwhile, has had to pay a price in other ways. One incident occurred in 1985, on the night of my birthday. Norman hadn't been feeling well for a couple of weeks, but he tends to suffer in silence. He also doesn't take very good care of himself, whereas I'm a health and fitness nut. We'd made reservations at a fancy restaurant that night, and I remember telling him in the morning, "Whatever you do, Norman, don't screw up my birthday.'
As we were getting dressed that evening, I knew something was wrong. In fact, I was so upset about his ruining my evening that I went in to the bedroom to tell him I'd go alone -- when I found him collapsed on the floor. It took three people to help me get him in the car and over to the hospital. Very rarely have I seen my husband totally helpless and out of control. It scared the hell out of me. He was so sick it was a week before the doctors could operate (they removed his gall bladder). Lying in that bed so weak and helpless, Norman was forced to reevaluate his priorities, a process that had already begun during my pregnancy and the birth of our second child, Beth. He realized he had this business and all this money, but without his health and a loving family around to support him, what did he really have?
Businesses do not run in a vacuum, after all, and neither do marriages or households. Every CEO has people he or she lives with, the ones who must ultimately bear the brunt of the business frustrations brought home. Living with those ups and downs on a daily basis can put a terrible strain on personal relationships. If a spouse finds herself in a situation like I did a few years ago, when the demands of running the company begin to take their toll on the family, then she must learn how to deal with the turbulence and get in touch with her own needs. If she and her husband are not willing to make adjustments for each other, she may have to walk out and find a different kind of life for herself. Marriage to an entrepreneur is possible -- but it doesn't happen without both partners working at it any more than a successful company can run on its own.
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Elaine Brodsky has been married 19 years to Norman Brodsky, founder of Perfect Courier Inc.
