“I see that happen for a lot of women,” she says as if she’s talking in code. “I think it comes down to the fact that sometimes, women don’t believe in themselves like men do.”
The words hang in the air, waiting for a hook.
She doesn’t need to know about the conversations I had with my parents about law school. She doesn’t need to know my mom told me it would be really expensive, and that most people don’t pass the bar, and most of the ones who do don’t get jobs and end up working in Starbucks. Sharon doesn’t need to know how Mom suggested becoming a paralegal and “seeing how I felt about things in a couple of years.”
“Do you know about our program to mentor junior women in the firm so they become senior women in the firm?” she asks.
“I think maybe that’s a thing for the lawyers,” I say. “Not the paralegals.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Did you know that fifty-two percent of law school graduates joining our firm are women, yet only eleven percent of those lawyers become partners?”
“Well, I haven’t examined the statistics, but that sounds about right to me.” You don’t need to count heads to see the discrepancy in this and every other firm in New York City.
Sharon smiles. “Yes, well,weall see it, becauseweall live it. It takes statistics to convince some of the men of this firm that there’s a problem. Anyway, we’re trying to address the discrepancy in different ways. I’d like to mentor you, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
“To help me ... progress? Get a raise? That sort of thing?”
“Lucy, you’ve done really well at this firm. You’re clever and organized, and you use initiative. But I think you’re capable of more. Much more.”
My stomach fizzes with excitement. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I think you’ve been overlooked. I’m not sure why. But I thought we could work together to help you realize your full potential.”
A lump forms at the back of my throat. I can’t remember ever feeling so ... like anything but a number at work. That’s how it goes. You’repaid a salary and you have to do a job. Talk of potential and mentorship ... I don’t remember ever having had this kind of conversation with anyone before. “I would like that,” I manage to croak out.
“Obviously, I don’t want to push you onto a path you’re not comfortable with,” she says. “But my alma mater has an evening program where students can attend law school on a part-time basis. It does mean the whole thing takes longer, but you might want to investigate the program.”
“Oh, really? Where did you go to college?”
“Fordham.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Fordham? Well, there’s no way I’d ever get into a program at Fordham.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Well, because ... that’s an elite school, and—”
“I’ve seen your grades. I’ve seen your work. You’d need to sit for the LSATs, but don’t write yourself off. Don’t count yourself out before you’ve even tried.”
“Even if I did, in some magical fantasyland, manage to get into Fordham, I could never afford it. No offense, but my salary pays my living costs and not a lot else. Certainly not enough to be able to handle Fordham Law’s fees. Or even the repayment plan on those fees.”
I expect her to agree with me and accept that I’m not the right person to mentor. She’ll understand it would be a waste of time. But she doesn’t.
“Like I said, the firm has created this program to enable women to get to more senior positions. We have the financial means to do that. I’m not saying we’d be able to pay for the entire tuition, but depending on your LSAT score and the college you get into, we’d definitely consider paying a portion of it. And, of course, you’d have a job here as a lawyer guaranteed when you graduated.”
My jaw hits my knees. “You’d give me a scholarship or something?”
“It depends on the circumstances—as I said, your LSAT and the program you get into would be factors—but we’d consider it. I wouldadvocate for you. And obviously I could help you source other financial aid if I can. I know a lot of people in this city.”
It feels like there must be a huge catch. Maybe she’s mistaken me for someone else. Maybe my file has been mixed up with one of the other paralegals. “And you know that I went to U-Mass?” I ask, just in case she’s confused me with someone else.
“I do. My husband went there. Go Beacons!”
I raise my fists in the air like I’m gripping pom-poms.
“This has come out of the blue,” she says. “And you might have other priorities. But maybe it’s worth some consideration.”
“You’re right, it is a surprise. But I’d definitely like to look into it.”
