I emerged from my birthday stupor this morning to kick some anxiety ass. I headed off to work five minutes late, to discover that I was wearing a dirty sweater, and decided at some point thereafter that I was going to do the thing I’d been boasting about all weekend; ask my attorneys for letters of recommendation so that I could apply for the clerk job that I am so deserving of.
It took me all morning to drum up the confidence, and after a lunch pep talk with Rey, I marched into one of my attorney’s office—with racing heart and sweating palms—and recited the words I’d practiced forty-two times that morning: “There’s a job I want to apply for at State Court and I was wondering if you would write me a letter of recommendation.”
I saw her jaw tense as her chair swung in my direction. I stood their exposed in my dirty sweater as she looked me squarely in the eyes and exclaimed “No!” She, in fact, would not write me a letter of recommendation. Not only no, but fuck, shit, hell no. She didn’t want me getting another job.
Flattering, sure, but not the response I was looking for. A simple “no problem” would have sufficed, but what ensued was five-minute conversation about why I wanted to leave.
After explaining that the clerk position paid almost twice my current salary, the attorney reluctantly obliged. She also offered to talk our administrator about getting me the money I deserve. Score.
Those sweaty palms and racing heart ain’t got nothing on me.
It took me all morning to drum up the confidence, and after a lunch pep talk with Rey, I marched into one of my attorney’s office—with racing heart and sweating palms—and recited the words I’d practiced forty-two times that morning: “There’s a job I want to apply for at State Court and I was wondering if you would write me a letter of recommendation.”
I saw her jaw tense as her chair swung in my direction. I stood their exposed in my dirty sweater as she looked me squarely in the eyes and exclaimed “No!” She, in fact, would not write me a letter of recommendation. Not only no, but fuck, shit, hell no. She didn’t want me getting another job.
Flattering, sure, but not the response I was looking for. A simple “no problem” would have sufficed, but what ensued was five-minute conversation about why I wanted to leave.
After explaining that the clerk position paid almost twice my current salary, the attorney reluctantly obliged. She also offered to talk our administrator about getting me the money I deserve. Score.
Those sweaty palms and racing heart ain’t got nothing on me.
4 comments:
Good luck getting that raise, Leila! I'm holding my breath that something better comes along here where I work, too...or I'm defecting.
Keep us updated!
Addie
Leila, you're awesome. And craigslist is my friend, fyi. And... I had a very good night. Just saying, is all.
Congratulations! Assertiveness pays!
That rules, Leila. It's great they want to keep you so badly.
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