The Great Flip | Role Reversal Part 2

When I left my job and became the one with the flexible schedule, I didn’t just walk into a new chapter; I walked into someone else’s shoes.

We flipped roles. My wife’s career was skyrocketing, and mine was resetting. She was now the one glued to answering chats at dinner, the one pulled in by pings and deadlines, while I was juggling gardening, groceries, and trying to figure out if we had enough clean clothes for the week.

And at first, I was quietly keeping score.

I’d fold the laundry and wonder if she even noticed. I’d cook and think, Does this count as productivity? I found myself using humor to be seen, "Thanks for doing the dishes." Knowing very well, I did them, and was just searching for a thank you.

I’d tell her about my day, and when she checked her phone, I didn’t feel annoyed; I felt invisible and slightly angry. Well, after using my reflection time, I realized it wasn't anger I was feeling, it was sadness. I was just missing our time together. Before, I was the busy one, where "us time" happened on my schedule more often than not; now I was the one waiting for her workday schedule to end.

And that was the awakening.

Because that used to be me. I was the one checking email mid-conversation. The one assuming that if the bills were paid, and the meetings were booked, I was doing my part (she’s doing a better job, without swinging too far in the other direction like I once did).

But now, sitting on the other side of the table, I felt the sting of being unseen, and the heaviness of the work that doesn’t show up on a calendar.

Things like:

• Writing the notes in the lunch boxes and attending camp field trips

• Managing the emotional temperature of the household (except when I am the spark lol)

• Repeating yourself four times about toothpaste caps and lights left on

It’s the invisible labor that keeps a family, and frankly, a team, running.

And yet, we rarely validate it, acknowledge it, or see it as “real work.”

This role reversal opened my eyes to that imbalance. It wasn’t about who does more, it was about who gets seen for what they do.

Presence isn’t about being in the room. It’s about being tuned in. It’s about looking up and saying, “I see you. I appreciate this.”

Now, when I talk about leadership, I don’t just think about vision or KPIs. I think about the tone you set in a room. I think about all the little things happening, fueling our mission, that may not seem like huge wins to me (getting a response to a follow-up email), but are to others.

It’s not just the little things we miss; sometimes, it’s the big ones too.

But all of it is weight you carry without asking, stories you don’t share, and burdens borne by people who hold more than we ever realize.

Switching roles enhanced my perception and knowledge about leadership. It made me a better partner. A better father. A better human. And it reminded me that the most powerful kind of leadership isn’t loud, it’s the quiet kind that notices what no one else does.