Return to Pennsylvania – Day 118

Hootie Giving the Stink-Eye – Photo: L. Weikel

Return to Pennsylvania

Karl and I had decided we would go wherever I found a job, but the truth was, we both wanted to return to Pennsylvania. I took a job here in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, in spite of being offered an absolute pittance to start. I had no frame of reference, though, and I honestly assumed I would easily earn more, quickly, since I was confident in my abilities. I received a small increase when I passed the bar exam. (And back in those days, the Bar Exam consisted of a day of written essay questions and another day of a very long multiple choice test. If you did well enough on the multiple choice test, they didn’t even bother to read your essays. My essays weren’t read.) I’m embarrassed to say how little I accepted as my first salary; how little I felt I was worth.

Especially at first, annoyed clients would balk over having a ‘girl’ work on their files. Surely I wasn’t a ‘real’ attorney? Snarky, provincial comments were made far more frequently than I ever imagined they would. I’d had no idea Buffalo, New York was exponentially more progressive than Perkasie, Pennsylvania. (Side note here? I didn’t grow up in Bucks County, so I had no frame of reference. “My bad,” as they say.)

Snark and No Boundaries

I only stayed at that firm for two years. While I knew the other associate in the firm made at least double (closer to triple) what I was making, I wrote it off to the fact that he had about four years more experience and had been a high school teacher before going to law school. I was in awe of his ability to just blithely leave work at 5:00 p.m., too. Wow. I couldn’t wait until I had that much confidence. He rarely worked late. He had to get home to play with his kids.

I, on the other hand, devoted to doing my utmost for every client on every issue, determined to prove I was equal to any task asked of me, did not know the meaning of 9 to 5. Meanwhile my paycheck was barely paying for daycare for Karl.

The second law firm I worked at was considered progressive and cutting edge. At least all the guys (meaning all the partners) thought they were. I was the first woman they hired. It was 1985. I was still earning well below $20,000/year.

Pinch-hitting ‘for the Team’

About a year into my tenure there, when the most senior partner had emergency quadruple bypass surgery, I was called in to take over his cases. All of them. In addition to my own caseload, which was all the domestic relations work of the firm, plus the ‘dog’ cases no one else wanted to handle. After a year of ‘pinch-hitting for the team’ and realizing that that partner was never coming back again full time, I demanded some recompense. I was begrudgingly given $1,000. Not a raise, though. “Times were hard” for the firm, I was told. Yet the fact that each and every one of them drove Jaguars laid bare that lie.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the male associate they hired after I started handling all of the senior partner’s cases, who had two fewer years experience than I and who was known office-wide to do only as much as he had to do, and to cut corners, was making thousands more than I.

I only found out about the discrepancy because one of the support staff saw it, knew it was patently outrageous, and surreptitiously disclosed it to me. As a result, I had to bring it up with the partner in charge of these issues in a roundabout way. I could not risk getting the support staff person in trouble. It was a dance. He didn’t want to admit it was true, but eventually…

Really? Are You Kidding Me?

The reason given for the fact that this younger, less experienced, and far less hard working male associate was getting paid more than I was that he had a wife to support (even though she worked – and was a professional). And I had a husband. As if  either of those conditions had any bearing whatsoever on what I should be getting paid. Remember, this was a ‘progressive’ firm. I can only wonder if they look back on this now and regret their selfish, grossly unfair mistreatment. I wonder how they feel now that their daughters are adults.

I should note here that, back when I started out in the early ‘80s, no one talked about what they were earning. I belonged to the ‘Women Attorneys of Bucks County’ group and I had no idea what anyone else was getting paid. In retrospect, I was probably afraid to ask. As far as the situation at my firm?

I got nowhere. They didn’t care. They simply could not see the inherent injustice.

How could they not comprehend this? I still wonder at it.

Enter Son #2

Meanwhile, I got pregnant with our second son. I literally – literally– worked until my contractions were 10 minutes apart.

Not unsurprisingly, there was no policy at our firm for maternity leave. There were vague assurances that I could ‘take some time off.’ But in reality? I gave birth to my son in the wee hours of a Saturday and I continued working. Why? Because the senior partner kept getting sick, kept having emergencies, and I was the one consistent factor not only in our clients’ lives but also in the overall handling of the cases as well. So my secretary drove armloads of files up to my house, every couple days, so I could dictate on them and keep them moving.

Funny thing, though. Because I wasn’t physically in the office and they didn’t see me working all day every day, payroll ‘got screwed up.’ Yeah. I was technically away from the office for not quite six weeks – and didn’t get my paychecks until I returned to work. Nice touch, eh? It really took the stress off me and facilitated the breastfeeding of #2, I can tell you. (Not.)

Might As Well Do It For Myself

It was after this callous treatment that I decided that if I was going to work this hard, day in and day out, I might as well do it for myself. So I announced my decision to open my own practice. Oh, they tried to get me to stay. They promised me all sorts of things – even a satellite office of my own. I wanted to believe them. I tested the waters and within a few weeks realized they were just going to keep promising things but never delivering. So I left.

And here’s the real kicker: I was so hell bent on acting with integrity that I did not take one single case with me. Stupid; I know. But I didn’t want them to ever be able to say I’d ‘stolen’ cases from them – even if I knew with absolute certainty that some clients might want to come with me. I didn’t even take a mailing list – because they asked me not to tell the clients.

Naively, I hoped at least a few of the clients would want to follow me – and would insist on it. Clients are always free to take their cases elsewhere. I knew many appreciated my work and how familiar with and dedicated I was to their cases. Surely the partners would not stand in their way when the clients requested their files? I trusted they’d do the right thing – both by me and by our clients.

Do the Right Thing?

Well, it turned out that the partner whose bacon I’d saved time after time, emergency after emergency, for over two years (and remember, nine months of that time pregnant), lied to our mutual clients. He told them I was retiring from the law because of the birth of our second son and he didn’t know how to get in touch with me. The only way I found that out was when a client went the extra mile to track me down because he could not believe I would just bail on him.

A few other clients also tracked me down. But it took a lot of effort on their part. Remember, this was pre-internet; indeed, practically pre-computer.

Ironically, that younger associate left the firm about two years after I left – taking his entire caseload with him. Yes. He made sure he ‘hit the ground running.’ A lot of loyalty he showed them. But hey – maybe they expected that behavior. Maybe I was just dumb for taking the high road.

The saddest thing, though, was that I’d considered most of the partners to be like older brothers to me. Indeed, that was why I’d taken the jokes and allusions to what I might have ‘done’ to win or settle some of my cases – some of which were real dogs – in stride. I wanted to be one of the boys. I was happy to show I had a sense of humor and could hold my own in any situation.

All I Wanted Was to be Treated Equally.

Well, that turned out to be a crock. And I continue to pay the price. As do far too many of us.

So forgive me for feeling a bit agitated that some 30 years later, we’re celebrating the achievements of women for one day – or even one month – per year; yet we’re still not even paid the same wages or salary for the same work. Hell, we’re still paid less for doing more.

To coin a phrase: we’re better than this.

(T-993) P.S.: The Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill hearings were still three years in the offing when I opened my own – eventually successful and built completely from the ground up – firm.

P.P.S.: I am a fucking feminist.