Page 102 of Come Fly with Me

Taylor

After I hung up with Maggie last night, I felt a huge sense of relief, but I was also overcome with confusion. My heart was telling me to forgive him, but my head was telling me I’d been here before, and it never ends well. Despite being drunk and totally lacking any self-control, the whole phone conversation did validate everything Jake told me and gave me peace of mind that he definitely wasn’t still married.

But amongst all of this, I’m still dealing with this whole wage gap thing, and that needs to take priority over my relationship drama. With my focus on that, I can’t possibly focus on what I plan to do about Jake.

Because when I wake up this morning, I have several emails from female pilots from all different airlines and additional emails from Dean and some of the other pilots at Crescent Airways. They all basically say the same thing, but as I read each one, I feel more and more encouraged, like I can’t turn back now and what I’m doing will make a difference.

That, or I’ll lose my job.

But there’s one email that stands out among the others. It’s from a group of flight attendants who work for Crescent Airways. And while I’ve worked with some of them, the majority I haven’t. The email is signed from over thirty of them and they’ve gone above and beyond with each one of them anonymously calling in complaints to a U.S. Department of Justice pay discrimination hotline. In addition to all of this, they’ve also sent letters to their supervisors.

I know I need to set something up with my supervisor because things are getting big and my threat has become so much more. It’s not just me now; I have the backing of more people than I ever thought possible.

I take a deep breath and hit the call button on my phone, and even though I’m feeling inspired and confident in what I know needs to be done, there’s still an element of nervousness that comes with it.

“This is Jeff,” his gravelly voice says, and I can hear a slight annoyance in his tone already. I can’t help but wonder if he’s been inundated with emails, calls and letters.

“Hi Jeff. It’s Taylor,” I start, feeling him out to see if just my name elicits a response.

“Taylor,” he replies, my name getting stuck on his tongue as he clears his throat.

I don’t wait for him to say any more, not wanting to give him the upper hand. “I was hoping I’d be able to meet with you today. Are you available?”

“Yes, I think a meeting is in order,” he states, his tone formal and somewhat cold. I hate that my mind immediately goes to a negative place, a place where I’m continually screwed over by men. I can’t change that I’m a passionate person, that I have trust issues with men, but I can change the way I use those behaviors. Instead of being destructive, I need to be constructive and putting my trust in Dean and him coming through for me shows that I can selectively trust men. That I won’t always be so closed off and defensive.

“I’m available in an hour, and I’ll meet you at your office,” I tell him, and he agrees.

And now I have to come in big.

I step into Jeff’s office an hour later, and he’s behind his desk, rising as I walk in the door. I have a file of companies that moved toward pay parity, copies of the emails I was sent, and letters that show that paying employees based on experience is a benefit to everyone in the company. With all of this, a positive for women and minorities.

“You’ve created quite a ruckus,” he says, not really greeting me as he returns to sitting behind his desk.

“Well, you didn’t give me a lot of choice.”

He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he exhales hard.

“We’ve always used the profit-sharing as we’ve seen fit,” he states, and already I can feel myself growing angry, but knowing it will get me nowhere, I remind myself to be constructive. Harnessing my intensity and using it for good will get me through this.

“And you saw fit to leave me out of it?” I ask. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know, Taylor. Women make up less of the workforce and you’re our only female pilot. We weren’t certain where to start your salary or how to determine…”

“Whoa, take it back just a second. Women absolutely do not make up less of the workforce. Forty-seven percent of the workforce is women, and while that’s not representative of Crescent Airways, that’s why we’re here.”

He sits silent, his eyes looking anywhere but at me and it’s hard for me to control myself, so instead of waiting for him to speak, I start up again.

“You know that we have a law that prohibits things like this. It’s called the Equal Pay Act, and it’s supposed to prohibit companies from using sex-based wage discrimination.” I’m now standing, pacing the room a little, trying to keep myself from blowing up at his nonchalance.

“I know what you’ll say, that these other pilots work more hours than me or that they fly larger planes or take longer flights, that they’re more up to date on changes in mechanics or the electronics of planes. But none of this is true, and in the end, the only person winning here is Crescent Airways. Not you or the men you’re paying more than me.”

“How do you figure?” he asks, and it’s clear he hasn’t done his research the way I have. He’s just here to defend his actions and I can only hope that my words hold weight, that they put thoughts in his head to make changes.

“It’s not just Crescent Airways,” I respond, trying to guide him in the direction that this is a bigger issue. “Corporate America wins because by paying women less, they pay less taxes, less in benefits, and less contributions to pension plans. That money isn’t going into your pocket or mine.”

I drop my file of letters and emails on his desk, knowing the last place I want this to lead is to me quitting, but I guess if that’s where it leads, then so be it.

“These are letters and emails of support from my coworkers and other female pilots. Please take a moment to look at them, and as you do, think about how you would feel if you were paid thirty percent less than your coworkers.”

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