Episode 84 -The Boss Man Cometh…

The Boss Man Cometh: Bully’s Greatest Role Yet…

So after I wrote that last post about how people in families use titles to dodge feelings, something else popped into my head. Because if anyone could take a situation as heartbreaking as watching our dad disappear into dementia and turn it into a personal promotion opportunity, it’s our Bully.

Now, for context, Bully’s always had a thing for titles. The Mother, The Father, The Boss Man. (he called me The Shopper, as he hated handing over grocery money!) I swear, if we’d had a goat on the farm called Patricia, he’d have renamed her The Livestock Manager. It’s his way of reordering the world when he feels it slipping out of his control. And when Dad started getting forgetful and life got messy? That was Bully’s cue.

Next thing we knew, he’d started calling Dad The Boss Man. Out loud. In public. At cattle marts, family gatherings, and even in front of the health nurse. I’m telling you, if I’d had a euro for every time he threw out a “Well, I’ll have to check with The Boss Man” when he was really making decisions himself, I could’ve retired and left him arguing with himself in a silage pit.

And here’s the thing: the moment someone starts renaming other people, especially the ones in charge, it’s not just language. It’s a power move. It’s a reshuffling of the imaginary family pecking order. Bully wasn’t just preserving Dad’s dignity – no, no – he was establishing himself as The Right Hand Man. The Heir Apparent. The man who knew what The Boss Man would have wanted, even when The Boss Man didn’t know where the kettle was.

He played it beautifully. A mixture of faux loyalty and passive-aggressive digs at me.

“Well, The Boss Man wouldn’t want outsiders making decisions about the place.”
“I’ll have to talk to The Boss Man before we sell that.”
“You know what The Boss Man used to say…”

Oh, do we though? Because half the time I’m fairly sure Dad never said any of the things Bully claimed he did, but dementia makes it a one-sided argument no one can win.

And here’s the uncomfortable bit: it worked. The community saw him as the dutiful son. The one still at the farm. The loyal soldier. Never mind that some of us spent a decade keeping the wheels turning behind the scenes, or sitting by hospital beds, or burying our own grief because there was always one more crisis to handle.

Lesson of the day:

Watch the ones who start dishing out titles when the hierarchy wobbles. They’re usually not just naming things; they’re laying claim. And in families like mine, those claims turn into land disputes, inheritance battles, and a lifetime of side-eyed conversations at funerals.

If I were braver back then, I might have pointed it out.

“Why do you call him The Boss Man now, Bully? “

“What are you avoiding feeling today?”

But back then, I was too exhausted, too grief-stricken, and too used to dodging his moods.

These days, I call it like I see it. And if he wants to be The Boss Man now, let him. Most of us know who really held the place together.