Thank You Very Much, Next

Recovering from existentialism, finding faith, making art, and falling in love again

When I was young, I knew the woman I wanted to be. She was fearless—unconcerned with fitting in, unwavering in her honesty, unafraid of standing up for what was right. She took full responsibility for herself. She had the strength to walk into any situation and, if needed, walk away from anything or anyone she loved—not from weakness, but from power. So how, at twenty-eight, did I find myself sitting in the ironic confines of the Freedom Tower, booking flights and managing calendars for people who terrified me? Once, I would have told a long, winding story about how I ended up there; I would have said, “It’s complicated.” But really, it was simple: I had devalued myself, waited for permission to live the life I wanted, prioritized what was unimportant over what was important, and sought out the approval of people whose opinions, after further reflection, I didn’t respect.

Fuck that.

Back when I imagined this future self, I was unscathed by the world's messiness. I hadn’t met my ex-boyfriend yet, a Princeton-educated private equity guy, six years older, who once looked at me and said, “Sam’s girlfriend looks so good tonight. Why don’t you ever wear cute pink coats with fur collars like her?”

“Because I can’t afford cute, pink coats with fur collars–I’m a senior in college, remember? And her father runs a hedge fund in New York City,” I said.

My response felt tough, but I was weak. I was the one who chose to stay with him for three more years. As I did, the seed of doubt took root inside me: Being born into wealth and fitting the beauty standard means a better life. No matter what I achieved, I’d never be as adored, as chosen, as a girl with wealth and a tall, lean body. What he seemed to feel at the beginning of our relationship, I began to believe: even being the first Temple University hire into Goldman Sachs’s investment banking division didn’t compare to being a "hot" hedge fund heiress in the dating market. Intelligence? Who cared? Self-made success? Who cared? If I wasn’t born into privilege, if I wasn’t effortlessly desirable, did it even matter?

Then came Goldman.

During my first week, a coworker—another Princeton grad from a wealthy New York family—pointed at a blonde across the orientation room. “See her?” she whispered. “She went to some state school in a flyover state. Like, Kansas, South Dakota, or something. She’s fucking psycho. She interned last summer, and everyone said she was...” She twirled a finger near her temple and mouthed crazy.

I felt my stomach drop. If she could label her as “crazy,” what would she say about me, once she knew I was a Temple grad from Cheltenham? Another fear took root: Be careful. Be likable. Don’t push too hard. Don’t be “crazy.” I feared the woman I had once dreamed of becoming wasn’t just undesirable to men—but also undesirable as a friend to other women.

Then came the “dream job.” Returning home at 10 PM from this job, I would call my mom, “I’m so bad at work I can’t even book a flight correctly.” My boss—a thirty-three-year-old man with zero emotional regulation—yelled at me when he was stressed, tired, hungry, or hungover (which was often). I bought his coffee and lunch to temper his mood. When I finally told him I didn’t like being spoken to that way, he accused me of having too big of an ego. “Maria, what you just said is very dangerous. You should be careful and stop being so ambitious,” he said. This is a direct quote (what the fuck?). But still so insecure, I thought, maybe ambition is bad. Maybe the woman I had dreamed of being was a bad thing to aspire towards. Again, I was the one who chose to believe him.

Then he left the company. A strong, mature woman took his place as my manager. With her leadership, I spearheaded several critical company-wide projects; I implemented a project management tool. Outside of the company, I received three job offers for Chief of Staff roles. In my personal life, I qualified for the Boston Marathon for my second time, running a PR of 3:22 (7:40 per mile average pace), and met a kind, ambitious, and supportive man who respects and inspires me (and treats his coworkers and clients with admirable dignity). And like the badass he is, he graduated from a state school in a flyover state—thank god he wasn’t stupid enough to go to Princeton. And with these recent wins, I remembered what I’d known when I was young:

I don’t suck at work. I am an intelligent, hardworking, and beautiful woman. I always have been. I have walked into situations and walked out when I needed to with bravery. I’ve always taken full responsibility for myself and my life story.

Turns out, I just suck at booking flights for a hungover, burnt-out man. Turns out that you don’t need to seek approval from people whose opinions you do not respect. Turns out, you aren’t some people’s preference for what they consider beautiful, so you need to move on to the people who do find you beautiful.

That’s the real takeaway: move on quickly from the things that aren’t working. Along with working in investment banking and private equity, I’ll never book another flight because I’m not good at it. My only problem was spending so many years taking what they said, believing them, and then thinking something was wrong with me.

Not anymore.

I turned down all three job offers to be “Chief of Staff”—they would’ve all been the same nonsense as my previous three jobs. I quit my current job too. I don’t care if “they” say the job market is “bad” (tell that to the Dust Bowl farmers, who survived by finding new land in California). I want to prioritize what is important over what is unimportant. I’m confused by how we all keep selling the majority stake in our lives to wealthy men, making them wealthier, and leasing it back for three weeks of vacation. I don’t want to ask for permission to have a vacation in the sun (which again is free, if you didn’t know). But one thing is for sure: my life is not a fucking sale-leaseback transaction.

Thank you very much, next.

I see it all clearly now. Everything I encountered was not trauma, but gorgeous, hilarious, and textured material for the future. I experienced disappointing treatment and witnessed astonishing behavior that I hope no one else needs to experience or witness. However, I also know that it affected me because, for a long time, I believed in those negative views of myself.

I also know that while there is a lot of bad in the world, I would never be who I am today if I hadn’t also seen so many examples of all the good in humanity. I know that at least one of the people I mentioned above has grown and learned from his mistakes; I’ve since forgiven him. I have also witnessed unexpected resilience, love, and generosity from coworkers, friends, and family. I am in awe and grateful for the incredible people who believed in me and continue to. I am grateful to Goldman for giving me the start of my career and to many of my colleagues there who years later continue to inspire me to work harder, prioritize strong character (even on little sleep), and dream bigger–most of my colleagues there were not like the girl I mentioned above. I’m so grateful to my current boyfriend, the strong female manager (also mentioned above), my best friends, my parents, and countless others who showed how and encouraged me to inspire others to speak up, have a backbone, and go for what I want. If you search hard enough and take control of your mindset, you will encounter an expansive good.

I’ve been down before. I know I will stumble again. But if anyone attempts to discourage me from believing in my ability to be the woman of my dreams, I will look at them with skepticism instead of at myself. I will never let go of striving for her again.

I am so grateful for this life and your readership–thank you from the bottom of my heart for continuing to be here with me. Your readership is the greatest gift of all. I hope to keep writing what touches, inspires, and entertains you for the rest of my life <3