I get paid not to work. Well, to be more accurate, my brother, the company president, asked me to stay home.

To be totally honest, I am not allowed into the plant. One of the conditions my brother set when he took over the business, after my dad died, was that I stop coming to work.

You think I'm lucky. I don't go to work and still I get a hefty paycheck every week. Yes, I play a lot of golf, and I am an expert on the lattes at Starbucks. But I really want to work. It is for my self esteem (so my therapist tells me), and because I think I actually have something to contribute (so my wife tells me).

I should be angry with Mom. She agreed to this set-up when Dad died. Like most family business owners, he had never been clear about his succession plan. And business was good. We were one of the few tool and die plants that was actually reporting a profit.

Did I have anything to do with the success of the company? Well, it depends on whom you ask. I have the people skills. I picked the guys who worked on the shop floor, and they were good. But my brother had a PhD in robotics and an MBA so everyone thought he was the brains behind the business.

Mom suggested we hire a family business consultant to help us unravel the anger and define a job for me. My brother reluctantly agreed.

We all showed up at the Marriott conference center for our full-day family retreat. The consultant was good. She knew how to take apart a P&L and how to get Mom to talk about Dad and his goals for the business.

We did not bare our souls. We stayed focused on what was good for the company. I felt good about the process. I had contributed some good ideas.

I was showing my brother that I cared about the family business.

Then it was crunch time. The consultant announced that after the next break we would discuss my specific role. My brother went outside to smoke (see, even he had some bad habits). I joined him, hoping to set the right tone for the next session.

He grabbed me by the head and put me into his famous half-Nelson head lock. I tumbled to the ground but he held on tight. He started screaming.

"Get out of my business."

I just kept on repeating "Let me go, let me go."

"No, not until you promise to get out of my business," he said.

Mom and the consultant saw us fighting through the window and ran out to the lawn. Mom started pulling us apart. She screamed for the family consultant to help.

The consultant said she thought it was wiser for us to fight it out.

"What!" said my mom, "Are you crazy? I thought we were going to discuss this as adults."

The consultant said "My actual plan was for your two boys to put on extra large boxing gloves and figuratively fight for the company. This is just as good."

My brother and I stopped fighting as we watched Mom lose it with the consultant.

"You mean I am paying you thousands of dollars just sos you can act as a referee at a boxing match??"

"The process helps us exercise all of our senses," answered the consultant.

"It's not just an intellectual conflict, but an emotional and physical conflict that they're dealing with."

Mom let out a screech like the one she let out when the doctor told her dad had died from a massive coronary.

"Lady, you're fired!" she screamed.

And then she tackled the consultant, putting her into the famous Reinfeld half-Nelson choke hold. I guess Mom had learned it from watching us boys fight.

Mom finally let go and cleaned the dirt on her dress off.

She said, "OK, boys let's sit down and resolve this ourselves. I want to run the business. Either of you want to wrestle me for it?"

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