I’m navigating the corporate jungle of Silicon Valley. With a master’s degree under my belt and nine years of experience at my company, you’d think I’d be on par with my male counterparts when it comes to salary. Yet, my paycheck tells a different story. Despite sharing similar qualifications and tenure, I earn about 77 cents for every dollar my male colleagues take home.
As a single mom to four kids, living in this expensive tech haven is no cakewalk. My company lured me here, but the cost of raising my children in such a pricey area was a rude awakening. To bridge the financial gap, I took on a part-time gig with a sports company I stumbled upon during a race. Don’t get me wrong; I love this side hustle and the community I’ve found in health and fitness. But juggling two jobs means less time with my little ones, and I wouldn’t need to if I received that elusive 23% raise from my main employer.
When I first landed my job here, I was thrilled to transition from retail to a stable 9-to-5 role, allowing me more quality time at home. I felt so lucky that I didn’t negotiate my initial salary, assuming my worth was appreciated. After two years, when I got promoted, my boss explicitly told me not to negotiate my pay. I took his word for it and said, “Thank you,” feeling as though questioning the offer would be ungrateful.
Fast forward three years, and I finally mustered the courage to ask for equal pay. I almost found myself apologizing for the request, thinking, “I’m sorry for asking for more money” or “I’m sorry for bothering you with this.” But I caught myself and clarified, “This isn’t a raise; it’s about achieving parity with my colleagues.”
Yet, guilt flooded in. I worried about how asking for equal pay would affect how I’m viewed. It’s ridiculous because I know my worth as an employee. My work is top-notch, but it’s also what pulls me away from my kids.
The day I asked for a raise, I had to skip half of one child’s music concert for a meeting and missed another child’s entire performance due to work obligations. I spent the first 45 minutes of that meeting listening to unrelated presentations while my son was performing. It broke my heart.
Being a latchkey parent, I worked through school pickups and rushed to baseball practice afterward, typing away on my computer while trying to catch my son’s at-bats. After the game, I grabbed fast food for dinner, kissed my kids goodnight, and headed back to the office. I finally wrapped up my work around 9:15 p.m. and squeezed in a run at the gym, where I broke down in the locker room, overwhelmed by the day’s demands.
I could take paid time off if I wanted to, but I fret about which events deserve my absence and fear judgment from coworkers. I always believed that if I demonstrated my dedication as a woman and a mom, I’d receive fair compensation. Yet, despite sacrificing precious moments with my children, the pay gap still looms large.
I deserve 100% of the same dollar that anyone else earns. My work is exceptional, as evidenced by my recent feedback: “Just walked through the deck. She said it’s the best activities, look, and flow she’s seen. Absolutely loved…[Alex’s] portion specifically. Awesome job, and thanks again Alex!”
My kids deserve 100% of their mother, and I’m uncertain how to achieve that balance. If I could merge my two jobs into one and secure my 77% plus the 23% I’m owed, that would be a significant step toward reclaiming my time.
Time to take a deep breath and maybe go for a run!
Summary
The struggle for equal pay remains a reality for women, as illustrated by a single mom working in Silicon Valley who juggles her corporate job and a side hustle to make ends meet. Despite her qualifications and dedication, she finds herself earning significantly less than her male colleagues, highlighting the persistent pay gap. This situation raises questions about work-life balance and the need for fair compensation, all while underscoring the value of motherhood.