Many moons ago, I worked in a bagel shop. This old, round, bald guy owned it, and he’d hired a bunch of high school students to run it. I loved that job and I took so much pride in making perfect bagel sandwiches. I was 17, and when I found out I was making less money than the 16 year old boy he’d just hired, AND I was scheduled to work another early Sunday morning shift, I quit.
After graduating college, I worked for another old, round, bald guy. I made $30,000 a year which was not a whole hell of a lot, even 10+ years ago. But I loved that job too, and I took so much pride in learning everything there was to know. I’d worked there for a couple of years and had been promoted, got to fly on the company’s private jet, and even hired an assistant... and yet, no raise. And so I quit.
At the next company, I made less money than a guy hired after me irregardless that I had a more senior role. And I told myself it wasn’t about the money. I told myself it was about recognition, connections, and job experience. But I quit that job too, never having gotten a raise.
I’m not playing the victim card, because I’m not completely blameless. But I first experienced that shit at a young age and let me tell you, it drags a woman down. And while my parents have never expressed this exact sentiment to me, I know they’ve always wanted what I’ve wanted for myself - to be recognized for the work that I do and to be compensated fairly (and fucking equally!) for it.
What I’m really trying to say here is that I think it’s amazing when the stars align and you work at a job you love with an amazing boss who values your work and you’re nicely compensated. (I am so, so incredibly proud of you @joeychinsinatti
). But sometimes, we aren’t that lucky. And while I’ll never earn $100k+ working for someone else in a corner office, I AM the MOTHAF’ing CEO now and I STILL feel damn lucky.