The day I realised I could not keep being just “the boss’s daughter”

There is a very specific experience that comes with being “the daughter” in a family business. Someone walks into the office looking for a part, a price, a job update, an answer. Usually, they’re only coming into the office looking for directions - “Is Peter around?” 

Sometimes I’ll answer the question anyway. I know the price, I know the job, I know when that comb trailer will be ready for delivery. And I’ll usually still get “Righto, I’ll just check with your Dad.” OR my personal favourite: “Is there a bloke in the workshop I can speak to?” 

Welcome to being a woman in an engineering business is a small Wheatbelt town. 

For a long time I would laugh it off, until I realised something slightly uncomfortable - other people weren’t the only ones treating me like the boss’s daughter; I was doing it too. 

You inherit a title before you earn your own.

When you work in a family business in a small town, people know exactly who you are. I was Peter and Julie’s daughter long before I was the General Manager of Wongan Engineering. 

And to be fair, being the boss’s daughter opened doors for me. I have been given opportunities because this was my family business; I would never deny that. I have had access to people, conversations, and knowledge that someone walking in off the street wouldn’t necessarily have had. I don’t pretend otherwise. 

But getting an opportunity and being capable of doing something with it are two very different things. At some point, you have to build your own credibility. And that part takes time.

I probably made it harder than it had to be.

For years I would say things like “I’ll check with Dad”, even when I already knew the answer. I’d soften decisions into suggestions. I’d let someone bypass me and go directly to Dad rather than saying, “Actually, that sits with me.” 

Part of it was habit, part of it was avoiding awkward conversations. And part of it was probably because I hadn’t quite decided whether I believed I had the authority either. Because there is a weird tension in stepping into leadership in a family business. 

You don’t want to walk in and act like you know everything. You don’t want people thinking you were handed a position because of your surname. You don’t want people who watched you grow up thinking you’ve suddenly become too big for your boots. So sometimes you make yourself smaller instead. I did.

Eventually, that stopped working. 

I’ve now spent nine years inside Wongan Engineering. I’ve helped build systems, manage staff, navigate HR, marketing, finances, recruitment, customer relationships and the million other things that come with running a regional business.

I’ve also spent years building Local Social Co. from scratch alongside it. I’ve made good decisions; I’ve made some shit ones. I’ve had some uncomfortable conversations, and I’ve learnt when to push and when to listen. Somewhere along the way, I realised I didn’t need to keep proving I deserved to be in the room, but I did need to start acting like I belonged there. 

That meant I stopped automatically handing decisions back to Dad. If something sat within my role, I made the call. If someone asked for Peter when I could answer the question, I answered it. If a conversation needed to come through me, I stopped apologising for that. And slowly, something changed; people started coming to me.

Dad is still Dad.

This is not a story about marching into the workshop and declaring myself the new boss - I could imagine the laughs that would get. Anyone who knows our family would know exactly how that would go. 

Dad has decades of knowledge that I don’t have. There are things that he can look at for ten seconds and understand in a way that takes me an hour. I still ask his opinion; we still disagree. Sometimes he is right, sometimes I definitely am. Sometimes neither of us wants to admit which one it is. But asking for someone's advice is very different from needing their permission. That was probably one of the biggest shifts for me. 

And I know I am not the only one.

There are rural women all over Australia doing this. They’re running the books, managing staff, handling compliance, doing payroll, talking to customers, managing the marketing, writing the tenders, making decisions, keeping the whole bloody thing moving. 

And then someone introduces them as “the wife” or “the daughter.”

They probably don't mean anything by it; it’s just a label that has always been there. But sometimes the labels we have had the longest are the ones we forget we are allowed to outgrow. 

I don’t particularly want to be called inspiring for doing my job. I’d rather be called capable; I’d rather be trusted to make the decision; I’d rather the phone ring for me because someone knows I am the person who can help them.

And if you are the daughter, the wife, the daughter-in-law - or anyone else trying to establish your own place inside something your family built - maybe the first person who needs to stop treating you like the supporting character is you. 

Take the call. Make the decision. Put your name next to it. You can still respect the people who built the business before you without standing behind them forever.