"How in the world do you work with your husband?” women ask Sandy Cotton.
"How could you work with your wife?” guys ask Art Cotton.
The couple have been testing this arrangement for 17 years, successfully, they say. So, apparently — contrary to conventional wisdom — it can work. And, according to several couples who were asked about it, it works pretty well.
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Many married couples can be found working together this way, or at least working in the same businesses, institutions or organizations. At Oklahoma City University, the Cottons, both in university development, are among at least 16 couples who work at the private school.
Among them are Alana and Billy Martin.
"It's convenient,” Alana said. The OCU graduate who's now a dance professor at the United Methodist-affiliated school said that if she needs to drop off their 4-year-old son, Alana just walks across campus to the athletic department, where Billy is assistant soccer coach.
Although they don't really work with each other, Billy said, "We can pop over to see each other, say hello. We don't really run into each other too much unless we want to.”
Introduced by Billy's younger brother, who played soccer for Billy, Alana and Billy began dating while Alana was attending St. Gregory's University in Shawnee. Six years ago, Alana was offered a faculty position at OCU.
"It was perfect,” Alana said. "It was like it was meant to be, that I was supposed to teach here.”
At first, Alana was concerned about that conventional wisdom thing — that couples shouldn't work too closely together. However, because of their busy schedules — Alana with dance rehearsals and performances, and Billy with soccer practice and games — seeing too much of each other has not been an issue. The couple, who live in Yukon, don't carpool, but they manage to have lunch together or otherwise meet several times a week.
"If she worked at a different university, we'd hardly ever see each other,” Billy said.
Alana said it has no drawbacks.
"I don't think so at all. I love it.”
Dann May and Phyllis Bernard actually work with each other at times. As different as their disciplines are — he's a religion professor, she's a law professor — they mesh well, May said. "We complement each other.”
For instance, when the two join intellectual forces as co-instructors for a few courses, such as legal and ethical issues in business, they keep each other in line. If he starts waxing too idealistic, "Phyllis will chime in with ...,” May said, cueing Bernard.
"... Well, the law requires ...,” Bernard said, completing the thought.
And when she gets "too realistic” with a scenario, he points out ethical concerns.
"The students love that,” May said.
Being an interracial couple — Bernard is black, May white — stirs things even more, they said. For instance, some students grumble that May is "just prejudiced against black students,” while others tell Bernard "you just have it in for white guys.”
"They don't realize we're married to each other,” May said. "They don't make the connection.”
Advantages run deeper, though. They're evident on Bernard's dispute-resolution trips to Africa, where married interracial couples are almost unheard of. "Because we're black and white, when we walk into a room, there's a sense that ‘maybe we can solve this conflict,'” May said. "When we tell people we're married, they usually applaud.”
In the 14 years they have been married, virtually all reactions to their interracial status have been "pleasant,” surprisingly so at times, Bernard said.
As for working together, both agree there is a drawback: carpooling. Commuting from Norman, the couple feel compelled to use the one hybrid vehicle in the family, and May sometimes has trouble getting Bernard out the door when his classes begin two hours before hers.
Otherwise, the arrangement is mutually beneficial.
"I keep her ethical,” May said.
"And I keep you relevant,” Bernard replied.
Still, few others push the couple-employment envelope like the Cottons. They not only office so close to each other that "you could shoot a shotgun and hit both of us,” as Sandy put it, but they often team up in their work. Their "development” jobs are difficult to explain, Sandy said.
"We take people to lunch or dinner, and we ask them for money,” she said. "If they turn us down, we start again.”
"We build relationships,” Art said.
The Cottons met while working for Lt. Gov. Jack Mildren, Art as chief of staff and Sandy handling constituent services. They went on to work in development jobs at Oklahoma State University, although in different departments, then at the Oklahoma Medical Research Foundation, where Art was Sandy's boss.
Today, they report separately to the OCU president but often work together, especially when dealing with prospective donor couples.
The Cottons' cooperative effort continues at their home in Blanchard, where they garden together and share cooking duties, although Art handles the laundry because he can't stand the sight of a full laundry basket.
Sandy's more of a "detail” person, and Art is more comfortable with "the big picture.” In all things, the Cottons said, they complement each other.
"Even if we weren't married,” Sandy said, "Art and I would make a great team.”