“Got it,” I said. “And wait, when you said you have to pass their tests, you meant metaphorically, right? There aren’t actual tests—”
“Ooh,” Libby gasped, grabbing my arm. “Speaking of special events, this one is going to be so good!”
The women in the room all snapped to attention as Caroline emerged from one of the unmarked doors. Aha, that one must have led to a greenroom or an office of some kind. I wondered what the other one led to. Maybe a maintenance closet.
Caroline wore a plaid miniskirt, into which she’d tucked a ribbed white turtleneck. How did she get her shirt to stay tucked so neatly? Maybe good posture had something to do with it. Caroline stood up ramrod straight. She smiled at the crowd before her, ready to present, like the type of friend you’d want to give the big toast at your wedding because she would keep strictly to the time limit. Still, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some kind of charisma void. She’d keep to the time limit, but she wouldn’t make your wedding guests laugh. That Vogue article had implied that Caroline wanted to run for office someday, but she’d be so much better as someone’s chief of staff. “Hello, ladies. I don’t think I have to tell you how excited I am for tonight’s guest.”
“Tell us anyway!” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Okay, I’m so excited!” Caroline said. She held up a hand and began ticking things off on her fingers. “Just a few of the incredible facts about her: she’s been called ‘the Sheryl Sandberg of Enterprise Information Systems Technology,’ she’s made the Time 100 Most Influential People list six years running, and oh yeah . . .” She affected a blasé face for a moment, then continued, “She just officially became a billionaire!” Some of the women in the crowd whooped. I did not understand the hard-on that people had for billionaires. Being that rich was just a form of hoarding, but instead of collecting old newspapers and dead cats, you were piling up money you could never use. I wouldn’t even know how to spend more than $15 million. Well, okay, no, I lived in New York City. I could probably spend $20 million if I had to. But not a penny more. “Here to talk to us about closing the wage gap, and how to ask for what you’re worth, please welcome Louise Boltstein!”
The women applauded, with a few even standing up to cheer, as a businesswoman in her fifties walked out from the door. Louise Boltstein was sleek, with a blond bob and an incredibly subtle plastic surgeon. I’d seen her in the news occasionally. She’d testified at some hearing on Capitol Hill, where she’d shut down the ultraconservative senator who was asking her questions. Also, she was friendly with Oprah. She walked over to Caroline, money and power swirling around her in the air like dust motes, and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. Then they took their seats and leaned forward to have an Important Conversation.
“Thank you for having me,” Louise said. “My daughter is jealous that I get to be here right now.”
“Oh please, it is such an honor,” Caroline said.
“This is amazing,” my new friend Libby whispered to me. “Louise is like the ultimate girlboss!”
“I have to tell you,” Caroline said, “that when I was in college, I had a picture of you hanging on my wall of inspiration, right in between Katie Couric and Madeleine Albright.” Louise laughed like she heard those kinds of stories all the time. “So maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but I’m not ashamed to say that I fangirled when you agreed to talk to us.” Caroline would be the type of woman to reclaim embarrassment, to turn an accidental fart in the middle of a work presentation into an opportunity for an earnest speech about how yes, women had gas! And they should celebrate that, because until men saw women as equals in all ways, including bodily functions, we’d never reach true parity!
“Now,” Caroline said to Louise. “You’re here to give us all some guidance on what we can do about the ever-stubborn wage gap.”
“That’s right,” Louise said, and looked out at the crowd. “There aren’t that many female billionaires, and I need some of you to join me so I don’t get lonely!” The crowd gave an appreciative chuckle. “But seriously, for years, I failed to reach my earnings potential because I never asked my male colleagues what they were making. And then one day I learned that I had been settling for thousands less even though I was just as, if not more, qualified.”
“And it continues to be such an issue,” Caroline said, indicating a woman in the front row of the audience, one of the business-casual set. “Just earlier this evening, Maya and I were talking about this, right?”
Maya nodded. “I’m only making three hundred thousand a year,” she said. “And I know some of the men at my level are making more than that.” I stifled an incredulous snort-laugh. In what world was three hundred thousand a year something to sniff at? In this world, I guessed.
“So clearly there are a lot of factors,” Caroline said. “But, Louise, what do you think is the primary issue holding women back here?” She turned to us. “Besides long-standing structural inequality, obviously.”
Louise steepled her fingers and nodded. “Great question, Caroline. Women don’t negotiate as forcefully as men do. That’s what I want us to work on tonight.”
“One hundred percent!” Caroline gushed, then paused, her face suddenly serious. “Of course,” she said, “we have to remember that the wage gap is even larger for women of
