“He’s the manager of our wedding.”
Hold on, what did you just say? The manager of our wedding? Huh? Aren’t we the managers of our wedding?
Those were the thoughts running through my head (and ultimately coming out my mouth) when my husband came home from work, told me that one of his leaders wanted to have dinner with us in the near future, and answered my questions of who this leader was and whether I had met him before with the above statement.
My little Canadian brain struggled to grasp the idea that a Chinese man I had never met might be planning my wedding. And not even a wedding planner, who does this for a living. A leader at the factory my husband works at.
As I digested this information, there was more. “It’s not just him. He’s just the manager of our wedding team. They all want to meet us for dinner sometime soon to discuss our wedding.”
We have a wedding team. A team of people to plan and organize our wedding. And they want to have dinner, a “team meeting,” if you will. Where we will, presumably, discuss strategies and have positions assigned. I couldn’t help but ask whether or not we would have a team cheer, too.
After a clarification question and answer session, I discovered that these are a handful of my husband’s friends, coworkers, and leaders who are like his family here (since he lives away from his hometown), who know the amount of work that goes into planning a wedding, and who are graciously willing to help us navigate this endeavour so that the two of us don’t have to shoulder it all ourselves (and some of whom are well-connected – score!). I have been assured that we are still in charge and will make the decisions, and that this “manager” will simply be the guy in charge of making it all happen.
But what I forgot to ask, as my brother pointed out, is should we all wear uniforms?