Page 27 of Someone Just Like You

“And the thing is, I did everything she wanted, the way she wanted it done, but she would change her mind with no warning and then complain that I wasn’t a mind reader.” I wiggled a finger at Jude. “Trust me. I worked my ass off to anticipate her needs.”

Jude nodded. “No doubt.”

Moved by his certainty, I continued. “It wasn’t repeating the work that bothered me—shit happens—but her refusal to ever take ownership of anything maddened me. She gaslighted the hell out of me until I wondered if maybe Ididmisunderstand her and itwasmy fault, or maybe as a first-year associate, Ishouldhave been more comfortable with partner-level work.”

I gripped my glass. Shielding my candidates from people like Maxine was why I so painstakingly researched work environments before setting up interviews. I downed my beer and wiped my mouth. “The worst part was everyone knew it was her issue, not mine. They all thought she was a monster. But it didn’t matter, because she was the client and I had to bend over and take it up the ass if that’s what she wanted.”

Jude’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes danced.

“Metaphorically!”

His lips twitched.

“Even if I switched law firms, there would always be another Maxine, and if I ever wanted to make partner, I’d be expected to pick up more clients, even nasty ones like her. And sure, I could move in-house to the legal department of a corporation andbeMaxine…only with a heart…but I kind of hated being a lawyer.” I took a deep breath. “And now I’m babbling.”

Jude pointed at my phone. “Maybe you should work for Ceiling Crashers.”

“And switch careers again?” I scoffed.

He scoffed back. “Why not? You did it once. And career coaching is similar to recruiting, right?”

“Adjacent, but different.” I knew little about coaching, but I imagined it was everything I loved about recruiting without the politics or questionably skeevy practices of those who applied the Triple-A method.Cough…Michael.I gave an indifferent shrug. What did I know?

“It doesn’t matter, because I already have a job.” I glanced at my phone. “One I need to get back to.” I had a few things to finish up in the office and would then continue my work from home. I’d started doing my due diligence again, only from my personal computer and on my own time, and was already sleeping better as a result. Hopefully, the handful of interviews I’d set up while pretending to be a “team player” was enough to satisfy Michael for now.

I stood and dropped a twenty on the bar. “There’s enough here for another beer. Enjoy, and don’t say I never gave you anything.”

As I pushed the door open and stepped into the sun, I heard him say, “You’ve given me a headache my entire life, Blum.”

Chapter Twelve

Aweek later, ten of us sat around a large conference table, Michael at the head, for our weekly meeting in one of the company’s boardrooms. I was sandwiched between my colleague Cindy on one side and one of the male directors, Pranav, on the other. Michael had spent the last fifteen minutes repeating his mantra to collect as many résumés as possible, cast them out to a wide net of clients—who should be touted as the “Shangri La” of firms—and whenever possible, encourage candidates to take the highest-paying job in order to make the highest commission.

His greasy practices left me itchy all over, like an army of ants was using my body as a battlefield. Why he had left the practice of law—and a firm famous for hiring sharks out for blood—was a mystery.

“Before we go, I’d like to call out one of your team members as an example of what can happen when you listen to critical feedback, take it in, and apply it. Let’s hear it for Molly.” Michael smiled in my direction. “Since my pep talk earlier this month, Molly doubled her productivity, and just yesterday, one of our corporate clients extended a job offer to her second-year associate candidate.” He clapped, urging the others to join in.

As heads spun my way, some from the left, a few from the right, others straight on, I resisted the urge to use my long hair as a curtain for my burning face. I prayed they wouldn’t break out into “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

“Nice going, Molly!” Pranav said, with a thumbs-up.

I forced a smile at those around the table. “Thank you, everyone!” I had no objection to being called out for “good behavior,” but it was awkward and unnecessary. I suspected Michael was more interested in feeding his own ego than mine. Little did he know my increased productivity had nothing to do with his “pep talk.” It was purely coincidental.

“That’s all for this week. Happy recruiting,” Michael said.

Everyone gathered their water bottles, notepads, and phones and stood to go.

“Molly?”

I groaned inwardly, but pivoted to face Michael, who was leaning against the edge of the table, his gray dress pants and matching sweater blending almost perfectly with the room’s carpeting.

“You have a minute?”

“Sure.”

“I wanted to congratulate you again on your deal. That makes two this month. I see you’re employing the Triple-A method!” He lifted his chin, pleased with himself.

“I am.” I left out the word “not.”I am not.I’d found this candidate, Anna, by running a list of junior associates from Manhattan’s biggest law firms notorious for overworking their attorneys. Many lawyers straight out of law school coveted positions in Big Law for the money and prestige, but after a year or two grew unsatisfied and depleted and longed to make the move in-house. I hit the jackpot with Anna, who was tired of the long hours, high billing quotas, and low-level mundane tasks. I’d found a way to seek out only those candidates likely to be unhappy in their present positions. I also searched for dirt on the corporation from the comfort of my couch at home. Both practices were decidedly anti-Triple-A.

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