Chapter 5
NOW
After I escaped Alex’s office, I convinced Miranda’s EA (it helped that I regularly brought in treats from TikTokapproved bakeries) to squeeze me in for a meeting that afternoon.
In the name of professionalism, I’d called our appointment ‘Catch up’ rather than ‘ HELP – I need to get the hell off the project I’ve been staffed on! !! ’
Instead of doing any actual work, I’d spent the day working up a speech.
I was going to make a compelling case for a transfer.
People kicked up a fuss about the type of projects they were assigned to all the time, whereas I’d learned the hard way, early on in my career, that being demanding didn’t always end well.
This did mean that I’d been sent to some true holes to do the least sexy type of work and was often thrown on to cases in desperate need of staff.
But I’d never complained, not once. Even when I’d been sent to Far North Queensland in the middle of summer to work out the most efficient way to slaughter wild pigs (the answer: don’t).
‘Rebecca!’ Miranda looked up from her laptop with a warm smile when I knocked on her office door.
She was the partner who’d mentored me since I joined Stern & Co.
If other people had a work wife, I had a work mum – someone to show me what the road ahead should look like.
She’d been one of the last people standing on the dance floor at our engagement party, and I’d made Frozen -themed cake pops for her youngest daughter’s last birthday.
But even after almost a decade, I still found her slightly terrifying.
She was many things that I found particularly intimidating in a person: vegan, outdoorsy and naturally blonde.
I’d once, at the end of a company Christmas party (featuring unlimited negronis), asked her if there was anything she couldn’t do.
She’d thought for a moment before replying, ‘Relax.’
‘I’m so glad you booked in this time. I needed to have a chat with you.’
My stomach froze. A ‘chat’ with a partner wasn’t necessarily a good sign. In fact, it almost never was. Often it was the managing partners, like Miranda, who were tasked with ‘difficult’ conversations.
‘You’re going to be up for early promotion in the next round,’ Miranda said, with a proud smile.
I stared at her for a moment, absorbing the news. This meant that in a few weeks all the partners would gather, a slide with my name, face and performance ratings would be beamed onto a screen, and they’d collectively decide whether I was ready to be promoted to principal, the step before partner.
But I also knew that the chance for early promotion was a double-edged sword.
On the one hand, it was a vote of confidence.
On the other, unlike in most businesses, if I didn’t make the grade, I wouldn’t get another try in a few months.
In our industry it was ‘up or out’. If I didn’t get across the line, I knew that it was only a matter of time before someone from HR would quite strongly suggest that it might be time to start looking for a new job.
‘Why?’ I couldn’t help but ask the only question on my mind.
‘First and foremost, you’re good at the job,’ Miranda said. Then she sighed, an uncharacteristically weary one. ‘And also, for your ears only, the firm is struggling to meet its gender target for senior roles. There’s been a call-out to push more women forwards for promotions.’
I tried to keep my expression neutral but felt a stab of disappointment.
‘You’ve got to play the hand you’re dealt.
Life’s a series of asymmetric transactions.
You’ve got to jump when the odds are in your favour,’ Miranda said, giving me one of her pep talks, which were invariably distilled wisdom from bestselling business books, her daughter’s YA novels and lived experience.
Evidently, I’d not done a good enough job of hiding the disappointment on my face.
‘You know that your new case is crucial,’ Miranda continued. ‘The partners will be looking at your most recent client feedback and case rating carefully. And the market’s tough right now. Not all promotions are going through. It’s just not the moment for second chances.’
This was my opening – if I blew it, that was it for me at Stern. Game over. I’d be thrown (though strictly in accordance with prevailing employment law) out of the ivory tower.
‘You’re on this project for a reason. You’ve brought new products to market before...’ Miranda said.
‘Not in this sector. And healthcare is—’
‘Look,’ Miranda said, ‘I know we use a lot of ridiculous terminology and long words around here, but this case is a simple one. The client has bought a fancy new product, and the executive team are paying us to tell them what to do with it.
‘It’s a short project – only a few weeks.
It’s a client we haven’t worked for before, and now we’ve got our foot in the door.
If we nail it, they’ve indicated they could buy more work.
This could be huge for us, especially in this economy.
The partners are watching us on this one. They’re watching you .’
My heart sank as I processed the news. Miranda was sponsoring my promotion, an early promotion. Which meant that this case would require me to work at the top of my game to prove myself one final crucial time to the partnership.
I thought of Alex, sitting in his glass office, looking smug and infuriating. I couldn’t work with him, and I especially couldn’t work for him.
‘Think about it over the weekend,’ Miranda said, intuitively knowing when to leave some space in the conversation.
I could see most of the office through Miranda’s glass walls.
On Fridays there was always a vibe on the floor as my colleagues gravitated back from their clients’ offices in time for end-of-week drinks.
I could see some of the assistants mixing cocktails on the drinks cart that would be wheeled from desk to desk as soon as the clock struck four – Knock Off O’clock.
A group of grads were filling every crevice of a junior partner’s office with rainbow balloons for his birthday.
When he got back from his meeting it would be hilarious to watch him remove them.
Over the last almost-decade, this place had become a home.
I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. ‘Will do. Thanks so much for the heads-up,’ I said. ‘And for pushing me forwards.’
‘You’re welcome. We have the ATG offsite on Monday so let me know your answer by Sunday,’ Miranda said, smiling warmly. ‘Now, I better hit the road. I’m taking the kids camping this weekend.’
Of course she was. Because Miranda never shied away from the hard things. She would finish her eighty-hour work week and then race home to drive, no doubt for hours, to a national park, to spend the weekend with her three school-aged children at a campground lacking any modern conveniences.
I could already picture the out-of-office she was about to write: After missing two kids’ music concerts this week (terrible mother or genius – you tell me!
?), I’m taking my gang camping for the weekend.
If you need me, please send me a message, though I’ll only be checking my phone intermittently at the tops of various mountains.
Otherwise, I’ll be online Sunday night. Enjoy your weekend!
She’d chosen to play life at the highest level of difficulty, on every front.
How could I turn to her and say, Actually, in the lead-up to the wedding, I was hoping for an easier project so I can really focus on table arrangements and seating plans.
And ideally a job without my awful university boyfriend, who’s resurfaced from my past like a swamp monster .
‘Have a great weekend with the kids!’ I said instead in my most upbeat voice.
By the time I got through the unread emails I’d ignored all day, I found myself completely on edge.
Over the next twenty-four hours I would have to decide if, for the next five weeks, I was going to be in regular contact with the only person on earth who made me feel completely dysregulated.
Could I play kumbaya with my ex-boyfriend so I didn’t miss out on the promotion I’d worked so hard to gain?
And now I had to attend my mum’s birthday dinner with my entire extended family while pretending that everything was okay. I swiped on some fuchsia lipstick to offset my navy suit, grabbed her cake out of the office fridge and ordered an Uber.
I called Lily en route. Matt was always the person I’d call when I needed to troubleshoot, but we’d never had the ex conversation.
I couldn’t exactly call him, tell him I was fifteen minutes away then drop in, Guess what?
This weekend I have to decide whether or not I can work with my uni boyfriend, whom I’ve never mentioned.
He broke my heart... Any thoughts? Lily, however, had the necessary context.
‘I know it’s probably bathtime or dinnertime. Or you’re doing something hideously cool like drinking orange wine, so hang up on me if you need to,’ I said when she answered.
The FaceTime button popped up.
‘I need to see you,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because something’s clearly wrong.’
I pressed the green tick. Lily’s face popped up on the screen.
Beneath a razor-sharp fringe, her eyes were framed by heavy square black glasses and her dainty ears supported more earrings than gravity should have allowed.
I guessed from her contoured cheeks and the swoops of eyeliner under her frames that she’d just come home from the store – the literal and figurative face of epically cool Lily Li Jewellery.
‘Alex Lawson is my new client,’ I said. There was a pause down the line.
‘Alex-Alex?’ she clarified. ‘Oxford Alex?’