Two weeks pass quicklythrough a series of client meetings and meditations; increasingly subtle emails from the partners, ‘circling back’ on my career path now that I’ve lost my golden ticket. Caleb’s email about an essential meeting on Friday prompts me to respond in flawless, steel-strong legal language, even though I want to rip the keyboard out and use it as a weapon.
Friday comes, and despite the hot August morning, my hands are freezing as I step inside the elevator and push the button to the forty-seventh floor. The conference room is already half full when I arrive, and the chill of recycled air is worse than the ice in my veins. William has stationed himself nearest the screen, with a sheaf of manila folders fanned out in a display that screams, ‘Look at me, I’m partner material.’ No sign of Caleb yet, just the low hum of sharks circling.
I scan the room for a safe seat and choose the one nearest the espresso machine, with an easy exit and plausible deniability if I want to bail for more caffeine. At 9:05, Caleb sweeps in, tie askew and coffee stain at the hem of his white shirt. This is supposed to suggest he’s been awake since four, but the rumpled effect is so rehearsed I want to scream.
He slaps a few printouts on the table with a booming voice. “Thanks, everyone, for making time. Our agenda is packed, so we’ll keep this brief. Let’s start with the elephant in the room,” he states, straightforwardly. “As everyone knows, the Hui-Wang file is no longer with us, which leaves some gaps, but we’ll manage. Minji, I want to recognize your effort. You’ve handled the transition professionally and secured two high-value clients in the past ten days.”
Of course, I’ve been hustling. It would be a waste to relax.
“Nevertheless, the decision has been made. William will move to Seoul in three months as our new managing partner,” Caleb concludes, his baritone calming the atmosphere. “Congratulations are in order.”
William’s smile diminishes, nearly invisible, as if he’s surprised that I didn’t scorch the room with my look. The applause is modest and restrained, with everyone frozen in a courteous paralysis. My vision narrows for a brief moment and I have to clench my nails into my palm to remain grounded.
I anticipated this. I practiced for it. Yet, the grief overtakes me like a fever—sometimes I feel like a glacier, and other times I flush with heat, on the verge of throwing my coffee at William and reading him his last rites.
“Caleb, I thought the decision for partner wasn’t going to be decided until October?” Jasmyn questions.
“He’s been outperforming projections.” Caleb is quick, as if he anticipated the challenge. “Also, all the other partners thought it was best to?—”
“The Thornton case isn’t finalized yet. I thought partner was going to be based on how one performs on that case?” I speak up, no longer able to stay quiet. Clearly, everything discussed at the partner’s dinner was nonsense. It seems William was going to get the position regardless of my performance on the Hui-Wang case.
“Performance matters,” Caleb says, his gaze flicking to William, then back to me. “But so does leadership, and?—”
“Visibility,” I finish, unable to tamp the edge in my voice. “That’s what you mean. Schmoozing. Optics.”
“Everyone, clear the room. I need to speak with Minji alone.” Caleb sighs.
The silence after the shuffle is suffocating. Jasmyn shoots me a sympathetic look, and even William looks less triumphant than I imagined. Maybe he’s finally realized his coup is an empty chair at a fancier table. When the door hisses shut, Caleb sinks in his seat, arms crossed like a disappointed dad.
“We both knew this would happen,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Because I did everything right.”
He nods, not meeting my eyes. “You did. But there are?—”
“I’ve generated more billable hours for this firm than any other associate at my level for years. I brought in the Hui-Wang to begin with, and now I’m being punished because they reconciled?”
“No one’s punishing you,” Caleb says, though his tone suggests otherwise. “But actions have consequences.”
My stomach drops. “So that’s it? William gets the partnership because a client decided to work on their marriage.”
“It’s not personal?—”
“?? ??? ??(Get the fuck outta here).”At times like this, I love that I’m the only person in the office who knows Korean. “What I said was this is entirely personal, and we both know it.” That’s a fucking lie. If he really knew what I said, I would probably be looking for a new law firm. “William has connections because of his family, while I’ve worked twice as hard for half the recognition. I’ve smiled through patronizing comments and swallowed my pride when mediocre men took credit for my ideas for my cases.”
“Minji—”
“No.” I interrupt, surprising both of us. “I think I need to explore other opportunities,” I remember what that woman said on the plane. This isn’t the only path.
“This isn’t like you, Minji.”
“Maybe it’s time I challenged myself.”
“Are you saying you are quitting?”
“No, I didn’t say that, but you will be one of the first people to know if I am leaving the firm,” I reply, standing up. “Thank you for your time.”
Caleb’s expression shifts from mild irritation to genuine concern. “Minji, let’s not make any rash decisions. Why don’t you leave early today and take the weekend to think things through? Clear your head.”
