I was inspired to write this today after reading this, the results of a study showing that "a year after receiving their degrees a hypothetical pair of graduates - one man and one woman - from the same university who majored in the same field and work full time for the same number of hours per week in the exact same job won't earn the same salary. The woman would earn roughly 7 percent less."
That is me screaming, reliving my own battle with this, and feeling my blood start to boil.
There was a day, in what now seems like a former life, that I got a promotion that everyone thought I would just be thankful for because it was a bit unusual for someone without a pair of balls to get the job.
However, on that same day a male colleague got the same promotion so instead of signing my offer letter, I stormed over to HR with it and told my rep that I hoped I was being offered the same amount as my male colleague, who happened to be a complete douche with less experience than me.
His wide eyes and silence answered the question for me. He told me he could not discuss another employee's compensation with me. My response was one of my proudest moments at work:
"I'm not asking you to tell me what he's making. I'm asking you to recognize that I am asking the question and see no reason why we should not be paid equally. We are being promoted on the SAME day, to the SAME position, reporting to the SAME boss, with the SAME number of direct reports. I don't see any reason for a discrepancy." I smirked. We both knew the reason for the discrepancy was my vag.
It sounds badass and effortless right now, but my heart was racing and I was terrified as I rocked the boat and looked at them with eyes they saw flashing the word, "lawsuit."
They never did anything about it, I never signed my offer letter, and I vowed to be gone within a year. It took a year and two months, a baby, and some soul-searching to follow-through but I did.
So, here's the deal, ladies,(as I show my glorious cynical colors): always assume you're being paid less than the men around you and ask why. I was fairly confident this was the case and called them on it with my heart in my throat and boob sweat everywhere but the shocked looks and the inability to explain why there would be a discrepancy were priceless.
Put me in a binder, a Trapper Keeper, a shoebox or a file folder but don't pay me less than my male counterpart over in the boy's club binder.
*This Friday sponsored by hard-working women everywhere tired of the d-bag in the office down the hall earning more, doing less, and listening to himself talk all day long.*