This story speaks to a bravery and self-advocacy within me that I didn’t know I had until I exercised it. It speaks to the village it takes to shape a mindset, a career. It is shaping who I know myself to be and on how I’ll now advocate for others forever.
As I hit the 7 year mark in my career in 2016, I felt stuck. I was an overachieving, Ivy League-educated top performer; yet I was struggling with imposter syndrome and lack of passion in my job, feeling undoubtedly like I was a low achiever, and adjusting to a new identity in the mix: mom. My ambition had previously been enough to help me push through these periods, but climbing the corporate ladder was no longer the end-all-be-all it once was. I lacked the sponsorship I’d previously had in my career with a revolving door of senior leaders. I pushed on: started a side hustle, had a second child, found pockets of clarity through peer mentors and a regular journaling practice.
By late 2019, I’d just returned from my second maternity leave and felt refreshed and ready to make moves. I had a wonderful 6-months off where I wasn’t defined by my work or titles and could lay these ambition questions down for a period. I also didn't feel overly defined as being a mom during that time (though I love being one), thanks to my husband who carries his half of the load (and then some) and to a girlfriend who happened to be taking a career sabbatical during that same time.
So I hustled. In 5 months, I held on average 5 career connections per week for a total of over fifty-seven. I had the right conversations with my manager to get his support. I worked with a coach to address my fears, identify my mental blockers and have the right mindset to communicate my needs around work/life balance without guilt. I’d gotten a smooth pitch down, a coherent career development one pager. I interviewed for a couple roles that weren’t the right fit.
Then came a job description that was exactly in my wheelhouse, on a team I’d been eyeing for years. One of my past colleagues Adrienne, who was currently in a Chief of Staff role, helped put in a good word to the hiring manager, Chris, and it seemed like a perfect fit.
COVID hit. The interview happened virtually on one of the first of many COVID low days (March 16, about 10 days into quarantine). Luckily, the hard work I’d put in the past 5 months carried over into this time.
As the weeks passed and COVID impacts grew, I was overwhelmed and reeling between gratitude and grief. I heard almost nothing from Chris. It felt impossible to keep my head in the game with career in any shape or form. One week, I’m encouraged to keep up my job search and work hours as flexibly as I need, the next week I’m encouraged to get settled in my current role as hiring freezes have halted everything for the foreseeable future and requested to ramp back to full-time hours. I am barely hanging on — what the hell are we going to do with our kids at home for weeks turned to months? How can I possibly stop my job search after all of this effort I’ve put in? What right do I have to feel all of this when people in our community are struggling way worse than I am?
As the weeks pass, my overwhelm has made way for a tiny pocket of acceptance that a) I’m not their top candidate, otherwise they would be courting me more or b) I will just have to pause my search and be immensely grateful for having a job at all.
Finally, Chris scheduled a call to confirm they are still hiring for the role and wanted to confirm my interest. He said it in a way that wasn’t clear if I was their top candidate. So, in a moment of complete clarity, I told him that I was incredibly interested still, however, I felt that his lack of communication and transparency through it all was a poor start and that I expected a lot more from a manager that I was excited to work for. (BOOM!) He owned it 100%, not just blaming the system but owning his part in transparency. I had worked for wonderful managers and was witnessing great leadership from within my company as we navigated COVID, and I wanted to see it and know it from him. I was unattached to the outcome but hopeful.
A day later, Chris called me with a verbal offer for the role! He said there was a bit more to hammer out on the headcount transfer internally, but I popped champagne and waited for the official offer letter to come that was just a formality.
A week later without official offer letter in hand still, Chris dropped a last minute early morning meeting on my calendar. He dropped the news that he had to rescind the verbal offer due business continuity. Basically, the company staved off layoffs by closing open roles (there were quite a few on my team), and my accepting this role would mean the team I was leaving would be down another role, and therefore it was denied by HR. I was shocked and hurt by how impersonal the decision seemed. I’ll be honest that part of me felt like this was a sign to leave the company because of the bureaucracy (thank god I didn't!). I needed to talk to who was ‘in the room’ for that decision so I could explain what this meant to me and get a sponsor to step up for me. I also wanted to protect Chris, who looked like the bad guy in this situation for giving me a verbal offer he couldn’t back up, yet that is exactly the transparent action that I needed if I was going to work for him.
I setup time with the CVP I reported into, Matt. I made sure no one was blocking my move (they weren’t thanks to the support I had from my manager). I was grateful to also have the support of Adrienne who was the Chief of Staff for Matt. She and I had a long talk about my journey, the effort I’d put in, and how either path I was about to walk down would have to be one I could and would make the best of.
Ultimately Chris and hiring team couldn’t make a winning case to hire me, because it weakened the position of Matt’s organization. But I could make the case for my own career. I was hardly nervous talking to Matt even though I’d never had a 1:1 with him — I knew exactly what my ask was (Matt: get me this role!) and I’d processed the major feelings. He was incredible to talk to, and the class he showed was a model for me moving forward. He made it clear he was Team Deb. I hardly had to explain myself, and he owned the decision and shared the options he had to make this role happen for me and what we would do together in case he couldn't make it happen.
Two days later, I got the news that the reversal was approved and I got the offer again (possibly in an exception going all the way to the highest leaders in the company?!) in a win-win situation for all. I got offer letter signed in the system and my old team got to retain and backfill my position. I was trusting the universe either way, but my god it was a celebratory day to know that fighting for and using my voice to not just interview but get the role against all odds was a relief. My CVP said he’d never been so happy to see a member of his team leave. Everyone was a class act in supporting what was right for my career.
Chris still gives me kudos to this day for calling him out. The trust I developed with him so readily was a lifesaver during the next 6 months as COVID continued to affect our daily work.
This experience is one that gives me so much pride — in myself and what I’m capable of, the classy leadership I got to witness and the company I work for.
If I hadn’t called him out on his communication and transparency missing the mark, I may have never been offered the job and given a chance to make the case — they would have went with another candidate. If I hadn’t had a strong bond with my peers, and particularly one who played an instrumental role behind the scenes on my behalf, I may not have gotten all of the support needed. If I hadn’t worked with a coach, I may have felt more scared to stand up for myself in this moment. But I did it.
“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” -Eleanor Roosevelt
