“Well, no offense,” Zach says on cue. “But what’s the point in hiring her if she’s just going to get married, and then pregnant, and then quit to be a stay-at-home mom?”
It sounds just as terrible now as it did the first time. Maybe even worse. And I can remember that first time so clearly. For a moment, I was too stunned to say anything. And then I hopped off my barstool, got in his face, and yelled, “Are you kidding me? That’s so fucking stupid.”
Last time, Zach’s eyes grew wide as he backed away from me like I was a zoo animal let out of my cage. Conversations around us trailed off, and someone muttered, “Whoa,” as the other guys from Alex’s firm looked over at us. And then Alex took me by the arm and murmured, “Sadie…”
“What?” I demanded louder. “You don’t agree with that bullshit, do you?”
“No, of course not.” Alex shot Zach a hard look. “Dude, tone it down, okay?” he murmured.
“Tone it down?” I looked back and forth between Alex and Zach. “How about, dude, don’t have shitty, sexist attitudes about women in the first place? Ones that are probably illegal.” My voice rose even higher, and I was attracting the attention of not just Alex’s colleagues, but strangers across the bar, too.
I can still picture Zach turning bright red and then sort of purple. His gaze swept across the groups of people looking on. “It was a joke,” he huffed.
I leveled a stare at him. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Okay,” Alex cut in. “Zach and I can talk about this at the office tomorrow. Sadie, why don’t we head out?” And that was when I noticed his clenched jaw and jerky movements as he pulled on his coat. He didn’t look up as we walked past the other guys from his office, but I saw him flinch when a couple of them snickered.
I’ll never forget the fight we had out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t what I’d said, Alex insisted. Of course he agreed with me that Zach was an ass with antiquated attitudes about women. Of course he was going to discuss it with Zach tomorrow. “But Sadie, I wish you’d talked to me instead of making a scene in front of the entire bar.” If the story got around to Dave, his boss—and I could bet it would get around to Dave—did I have any idea what this could do to his career?
“But if Dave doesn’t agree with me,” I argued, “he’s as bad as Zach.”
“Dave can agree with you and still not want his employees to make a public scene while half of Wall Street is watching. The whole firm’s reputation is at stake.”
A tiny part of me understood what he was saying. But the bigger part dug her heels in. “You didn’t make a scene. I did.”
I remember Alex shaking his head, shoulders drooping. “What you do reflects on me. It affects my career.”
He hailed me a cab instead of suggesting we go back to his place. When I called him the next morning, Alex assured me things were fine, but his voice remained cold. Eventually, we moved past it, and everything seemed to go back to normal. But now I know that he never completely got over it, and I would only dig myself even deeper the next time we hung out with his work friends.
Now I know this was the beginning of the end for me and Alex.
But it’s my second chance year, and it doesn’t have to be the end. As Zach’s shocking, obnoxious words come back to me, I realize I have a chance to do it differently.
I take a deep, cleansing breath. I count backward from ten. I repeat I will not cause a scene, I will not cause a scene in my head like a mantra. But you know what? It’s not as easy as it sounds. Because I really, really want to cause a scene. Zach’s smug face is making my skin crawl, and his smirky smile is just begging for me to reach over and—
I spin in my chair and turn to Alex. And his words come back to me, too.
I wish you’d talked to me.
“Honey, can we go outside for a second?” Before he can respond, I slide off my stool, grab his hand, and drag him through the crowded bar toward the door.
“Jeez, Sadie,” Alex says when we’re out on the sidewalk. “What’s so important that you couldn’t just tell me inside?” Despite his fleece vest, Alex is obviously freezing, but my anger warms me.
“You’re not going to let Zach get away with that, right?”
“Get away with what?” He looks confused. “The hiring thing? That’s why we’re out here in the cold? I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. He was just joking.”
I’m taken aback by this. Last time around, Alex said he agreed with me, he just didn’t like how I delivered the message, loudly and in front of his colleagues. So, this time, I’ve done exactly what he asked me to do. I’ve pulled him aside to talk to him in private. I’ve kept my voice calm and even. I’ve made sure my bad behavior doesn’t overshadow Zach’s.
So, where is Alex’s righteous indignation?
I blow out a breath, and it turns to frost in the air. “He did mean it. But even if it was just a joke, does that make it any better? Is discriminating against women supposed to be funny?”
Alex crosses his arms over his chest. “No, of course not.”
“So, you’ll talk to him about it? You’ll make sure he hires the best person for the job? Regardless of her marriage prospects or childbearing abilities?” I can’t help it; my voice gets a little snarky at that last part.
He holds out his hands, palms up. “I’m not on the hiring committee. It’s not up to me.”
My shoulders stiffen. Is he really trying to tell me that he can’t do anything? “But you could at least have a conversation. Or you could talk to Dave about it.” I pause, hearing the resentment in my voice. Maybe if I add a question at the end, it might not sound so abrasive. According to my mother, abrasive is the worst. “Can’t you?”
Alex sighs. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.” He looks past me at the taxis zipping by on the street. I wonder if he’s wishing he could hop in one and get himself out of this conversation.
None of this is how I expected this to go at all. I pace across the sidewalk and then swing back around to face him. “If you don’t do anything, you’re protecting that old boys’ club culture. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.”
At this, Alex cocks his head and flashes me a grin, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can I get that printed on a T-shirt?” His body language is channeling Aw-shucks, give me a break, I’m a nice corn-fed Midwestern guy. I’ve seen this work for him a million times. When we showed up at an off-Broadway play and realized we forgot our tickets at home. When he was trying to get a table at La Petite Poule and they were booked for weeks in advance.