Unlike most high school predictions, my “Most Likely To Succeed” was pretty accurate. I was driven, unable to imagine any grade lower than an A or sports trophy with less than 1st engraved into its shiny, gold surface. But that wasn’t all. During my senior year, I was Juliet in the high school play, completed my Grade 10 Royal Conservatory piano examination, and took photos for the yearbook. If I slept, I don’t remember it.
I was beaten out as Valedictorian by a short, skinny guy named Paul Weatherby. Rumour had it his final grades were a half percent higher than mine but what did he do besides sit behind a computer all day? So what if he redid the entire high school’s computer system and made it easy enough for an ant to navigate through — who cares, really. I was the one who deserved Valedictorian.
Anyway, I’m off-topic. Paul Weatherby. High school. Both ancient history.
Somewhere between the bar exam and my first job at Barnes & Birmingham, I lost it. I lost my drive, my oomph. Maybe the decade of lost sleep finally caught up with me, I don’t know.
I blamed my friend Candace for my decline. She, of course, denied this. Our many conversations went something like:
Candace: “It was a holiday, Becky. It wasn’t like I forced you on the plane at gunpoint.”
Me: “Yeah, well. You almost did.”
Candace: “You needed a vacation.”
Me: “I didn’t need a vacation from life!”
Needless to say, Candace was mad at me for a time. But honestly, who could go back to fifteen-hour days, dressed in suits and three-inch heels, after cavorting on a beach in Maui? Maybe it was the sun. Maybe it was the deliciously unhurried lifestyle of both locals and tourists. Maybe it was all those mai tais. Anyway, by the end of the week I was so relaxed that I even let myself go braless in my new Hawaiian sundress and — almost — got a tattoo of a killer whale on the back of my neck.
When my vacation ended, it was still the middle of winter and horribly cold and it didn’t take long for my tanned skin to fade to sickly whiteness. Sometimes, when I was really down, I’d open my sunscreen bottle and take a deep sniff and rub a bit of it on my wrists like perfume, but I didn’t perk up.
I told myself it would get better when it got warmer. I’d love working again. I’d be satisfied again. What a joke. I mean, it’s not much fun spending hours of your life doing research for some senior partner, but the sting of it was reduced by pretending it was me in court, my brilliant defense strategies saving a client from life in prison. Now, it just felt like I wasting my life working for someone who probably didn’t know my name.
Twenty-five years old. Pretty young for an identity crisis, right? I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I ditched my job and moved to Maui and took up basket-weaving or waitressing and lived happily ever after on the beach.
When I approached my father with career-change ideas — no, I didn’t suggest basket-weaving — he looked me straight in the eye and said, “You like visiting the tropics? Keep your job so you can go there again.” I didn’t bother asking Mom. I knew she’d say the same. United front and all that.
What they didn’t say — but clearly implied — was the price of law school. It takes courage to quit a $40,000 education. It wasn’t even paid for yet, for crying out loud. And probably wouldn’t be for years. I knew that. And so did my parents.
Apparently, so did Barnes & Birmingham. My second day back, Paul Birmingham called me into his office, told me he liked my work, but the firm was severely behind since my vacation.
“Severely behind,” he emphasized, his fingers making a steeple. “Someone with your talent should be careful when she takes vacation so as not to disturb the larger cohesiveness of the firm itself.”
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly, trying to frown as much as he.
He smiled, just a little. I copied him.
“I’m glad you understand. You have a brilliant future ahead of you. Partnership, I think. Your hard work isn’t going unnoticed here, Miss Harper. We’d like to promote you come fall, provided you keep your nose to the grindstone.”
I watched his fat face relax even more. He leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “In all my years, I’ve never hired such a promising intern. You’re our brightest star. If you’ll let us, we’ll make sure there’s no glass ceiling for you.”
I know what you’re thinking and don’t you dare judge me. What would you have done with an opportunity like that?
At 30, I became the youngest partner — ever — followed by full ownership of the firm at 45. According to everyone, I am a success. (Eat my dust, Paul Weatherby.)
The day Barnes & Birmingham became Harper Law, Inc., I celebrated with my staff in the expected fashion: champagne and cake and laughter only slightly louder than ringing phones and humming printers. But this wasn’t my real celebration.
To my credit, I didn’t cry once. Not until it was done, anyway, and I got my first look. Across the back of my neck swims a big, black killer whale in green-blue water, its tail creating a splash along the curve of my left shoulder blade. It is daring. And beautiful.
And long overdue.
Laura Crowe is a writer and editor and owner of her own company, Imagine It In Writing. Her work has been published in The Prairie Journal, Bridal Fantasy, Pages Of Stories, and Today’s Businesswoman, and she spent a delightful summer reading slush for Every Day Fiction. Her current project is a self-published collection of true short stories written by others.
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18 Responses to “GLASS CEILING • by Laura Crowe”
Comments
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January 19th, 2012 at 5:09 am
Some writers make it look so easy.
Great voice, very natural. Made me like Becky, even want to be Becky and the ending was exactly right.
At least five stars.
January 19th, 2012 at 6:20 am
Powerful story, great natural-sounding voice. IMHO, if the last line were omitted it would be perfect. The image of the whale tattoo is so poignant in itself it should be left to resonate alone in the reader’s mind without the authorial commentary. I love this story.
January 19th, 2012 at 6:22 am
I dislike Becky, who apparently decided that making a living is more important than living a life. I dislike her for thinking that a tattoo makes up for even one smidgen of that lost life. I dislike Becky because she mirrors what I dislike about myself. (Don’t ask how many tattoos I have.)
An excellent story and, as ajcap mentioned, great voice.
January 19th, 2012 at 6:53 am
Laura, very smooth presentation of a character and a life both lived in and unlived. Wish it had been shorter, though, by eliminating the first 10 years or so. Still, four stars for this examination of the predicaments of careerists.
January 19th, 2012 at 7:50 am
This story reminds me of the turtle and scorpion story. The moral being that you can’t change your nature, no matter what you might profess.
Our MC tells us in the first sentence who she is at heart, and by the end of the tale, you see that played out. I was happy to see that there were no miraculous conversions, it would have spoiled this delightful tale.
BTW, great voice. Four stars….
January 19th, 2012 at 8:29 am
I think Becky beeded to kisten to her heart and not to what everyone else wanted her to so.
Still, this is a great story and Becky’s decision is the one most people make. Great character peice. Five stars.
January 19th, 2012 at 10:42 am
an interesting tale
well done
January 19th, 2012 at 11:14 am
You’ve captured a very authentic ‘voice’ and constructed a believable character to go with it. Very well done for that.
However, I disliked this character within the first couple of sentences and by the end I absolutely hated her. I’ve been stuck with people like this at parties – “Sit there and listen while I talk at you about my amazing life…” – and it’s never enjoyable. She comes across as smug and boastful and she could do with a serious dose of humility. She gets what she wants by sacrificing something she doesn’t seem to care about anyway.
Sorry, but I couldn’t root for her, and without that, my interest in the story never really got going.
You write really well, so I’m hoping next time you don’t write about such an awful person.
January 19th, 2012 at 11:17 am
Were the similar names Paul Weatherby/ Paul Birmingham intentionally trying to say something, or was it coincidence? I wasn’t sure.
I understand why Becky thinks her tattoo is long overdue, but I think some things are best done when the time is right and not one moment before. She got it spot on. 5*
January 19th, 2012 at 12:31 pm
@Dan, nothing personal, but why are you inserting comments about people you dislike when the focus is on a crit of the story? There are many kinds of people I don’t want to speak to for more than two minutes, but a lit crit has to target what the author was shooting for and how closely he/she hit the mark.
January 19th, 2012 at 1:00 pm
Wow – what a strong voice. Nothing about the story was predictable, which is nice.
January 19th, 2012 at 1:27 pm
@Walt – I had thought my comment was self-explanatory but I may have missed the mark. A critique of a story that didn’t mention the central character would be absurd, and my comparison of the narrator of this piece to real-life individuals was meant as an acknowledgement that Laura had portrayed an authentic personality type.
I don’t presume to know “what the author was shooting for”, and I don’t know whether my comments are useful or not – although I hope they are. They’re intended as an honest response to the work and an explanation of why, although I can see there’s plenty of writing skill on display here, this particular story didn’t engage me.
January 19th, 2012 at 1:35 pm
::applauds::
Wonderful story, brilliantly told. I loved Becky, and found this both very funny and deeply sad. I hope she takes early retirement and spends a blissful couple of decades as an eccentric beachcomber
January 19th, 2012 at 5:59 pm
Just a kind reminder that we welcome all responses and perspectives from our readers as long as they are presented appropriately; formal literary criticism is not a requirement or expectation. Thank you!
January 20th, 2012 at 3:36 am
Agree with Carol about thinking perhaps the end would have been stronger if it stopped with the image of the whale. Loved the flow, could empathise with the character, and the happy ending was uplifting.
January 24th, 2012 at 11:56 am
Awesome story – I loved the ending!
February 9th, 2012 at 11:50 am
[...] those who haven’t already seen it, here’s the link: http://www.everydayfiction.com/glass-ceiling-by-laura-crowe/. I had such fun writing and editing this story and receiving all the great comments from the [...]
February 12th, 2012 at 10:45 am
Well done Laura! Very believable character. With all due respect Dan, I also didn’t really like Becky. However, if I only ready books where the main character was likeable I’d have a much smaller reading list and library.
Looking forward to reading more Laura!