After a couple of weeks, he started getting annoyed. “Why did you pick this job?” he asked one night as I got home late. I shrugged. “You said I needed a second job. This one works with my schedule.” He huffed and grumbled about how it wasn’t “respectable” for a married woman to work at a bar. Oh, but it was respectable for me to financially support our household while he bowled with his friends? The irony wasn’t lost on me.

One evening, his friends teased him about how his wife was the one serving them drinks while he sat back and relaxed. The discomfort on his face was priceless. That night, he came home fuming, complaining that it was embarrassing for him. “If it bothers you so much,” I said calmly, “you could always take a second job yourself. Then I wouldn’t have to do this one.” He didn’t have much to say after that.

A week later, he came to me and admitted that he had been selfish. He agreed to split the financial burden more fairly, even offering to work some extra shifts at the auto shop. I happily quit my second job, but I made sure to remind him—I would never have had to take it if he had been fair from the start. Lesson learned.