Page 2 of Finding You
“What?”
“I know I didn’t. I couldn’t have.” I paced around the tiny living room. “And when I asked for proof—the emails, the metadata, screenshots—they couldn’t give me anything.” As attorneys we were trained to always organize the evidence before making accusations. We were trained to know the answer to questions before you asked them. So why did they come at me with such flimsy accusations and no evidence?
“That is total bullshit…oh crap, I meant caca,” she spat. I heard one of her kids laughing in the background and assumed she would be making a healthy donation to the swear jar tonight.
When the managing partner had sat me down, he seemed so disappointed. “We never expected this from you, Astrid. It’s a shame—you have been such a bright spot in your associate cohort.” John Waterson was a sharp-looking man in his sixties who built his reputation on his aggressive tactics and take no prisoners attitude. He was rich, elitist, out of touch, and just a little bit mean—the perfect BigLaw partner. When I pushed back on him, he acted shocked. Like how dare I ask for concrete evidence of my career-ending mistake? If he was looking for me to sit there and take it, then he was sorely mistaken. I was many things, but a doormat was not one of them.
“When I asked for more information, he noted the poor review I had received from Max Shapiro and some rumblings within the partnership that I was ‘not as committed’ as I used to be.”
“What?”
“It is total bullshit.” My commitment to the firm and my clients was unwavering. “I looked him in the eye and asked for an example of this lack of commitment. He was unable to provide a single one. The real mistake I made was not reporting that smarmy motherfucker Max Shapiro, not anything related to client documents.”
“Good for you. I’m glad you didn’t back down.”
“So I serenely asked him to provide actual facts to back up these assertions, and he told me to ‘calm myself.’”
“You have got to be shitting me. He did the old, sexist ‘calm down, you crazy woman’ play?”
“Yup. Then he suggested that I not get ‘so emotional.’”
“OMG.”
“I wanted to ‘emotionally’ punch him in his wrinkled old man balls.” But, being the consummate professional that I was, I sat quietly and calmly advocated to keep my job. Total coded sexist bullshit. “He seemed so surprised that I wouldn’t go quietly into the good night with the generous severance package and an ironclad noncompete.”
“What happened?”
“I refused to sign the liability waiver that they require before they pay you severance. Basically you waive all your rights to sue the firm.”
“So you don’t get severance?”
“Nope. I have ninety days to sign it, and if I don’t, not only do I not get severance, I won't get a recommendation from the firm. Which I need if I have any hope of getting another job.”
“I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself!” Emily yelled over the sounds of screaming and a dog barking in the background. The four walls of her house could barely contain the chaos most days. “So they want to prevent you from suing them?”
“Bingo. They are trying to cover their asses. The good news is, I didn’t screw up the merger, and they will know that once the investigation begins. The bad news is that Max Shapiro badmouthed me and ruined my reputation after I repeatedly rejected his sexual advances, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to recover from that.”
“Astrid. What happened?”
As if the rage and heartburn weren’t bad enough, a runaway tidal wave of shame crashed over me. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn't want to relive it all. But Emily was family, and I hadn't been able to confide in anyone about this.
“He came on to me several times, and I politely said no. The intensity increased and I remained professional and pleasant, just as I was taught to.” That wasn't the whole story but it was all I could manage right now. He was a creepy, persistent asshole who terrorized me with texts, emails, and comments for months. Eventually it stopped, and I assumed that he got the message and things would go back to normal. “I thought that was the end of it. But he was sabotaging me behind the scenes for months before I caught on. Blaming this mistake on me was just one of the many things he did to undermine my position at the firm.”
“That motherfucker. That's retaliation.”
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do? We could burn his house down. I’ve always been up for a little light arson.”
I made a mental note to check in with Emily’s husband about her firebug tendencies at a later date. “No, Em. I need to trust the process. Without a recommendation, I won’t get a job at another firm. So I need to wait for them to complete the investigation. Once they realize I didn’t do this and he unfairly blamed me, I’ll be able to leverage that for a recommendation for my next job.”
“But what if they don’t? Shouldn't you sue them or something?” I wasn’t ready to confront that reality. That everything I had spent my life working for was over. And while suing them for sexual harassment and retaliation seemed an attractive option, it would kill any chances I had of getting a position at a rival firm. Law firms may pretend to be bastions of equality, but there was nothing people hated more than a squeaky wheel. Especially when that wheel was a woman.
“I don't know what I’m going to do yet. But right now I’m going to enjoy my break and figure out my next steps.”
“Let me know what I can do to help!”
I laughed. “I’m fine, really. Just need some time and space to think. Actually,” I said, feeling super awkward, “what I need is a date.”
