From a young age, I had always loved designing things.
It felt like part of my DNA.
And from dollhouses and treehouses, I moved on to architecture at college. I loved it. I loved the fact that I could design a building that would stand for decades to come and people would live, work and play in my design.
My master’s degree in management plus my bachelor’s degree in architecture gave me a head start when I searched for a job out of college. I succeeded with my first attempt, when I tried to get hired at a large and prestigious construction company.
I like to believe that my abilities, not my sex appeal, landed me the job.
But the recruitment manager’s curious eyes scanned my body for the entire interview instead of paying attention to what I was saying. I almost considered not taking the job when it was offered to me because I didn’t feel that I won the position based on my skills.
I’m more proud with my intelligence than with my looks.
But I took the job and I worked hard as a junior. Within a few short years, I was designing my own award-winning projects. After years of working ninety hours weeks, the boss rewarded my hard work and assigned me as project manager for a new stadium the municipality is building for our local soccer team. I was thrilled to get such a responsibility, because I finally got the chance to prove myself on a large-scale project.
But as well as my work life was going – my personal life was falling apart. A couple of weeks ago my boyfriend, Mark, broke up with me.
He didn’t agree with the fact I was making more money than he did.
Who knows what mommy issues that boy must have had. I should be the one bitching because he had a crappy job at a factory and barely made ends meet.
One day when I came home, the storm began.
He was sitting there on the couch, drinking beer, and from the looks of it that wasn’t his first can.
“Babe, the situation can’t go on like this. I just can’t see any end in sight,” he said to me.
I couldn’t understand what his problem was.
This issue seemed to come out of the blue because we hadn’t had arguments on money before—I was earning enough for us to live a comfortable life.
“What happened, Mark? What situation? I’m too tired for any argument, please. I busted my ass at work today,” I said, trying to calm him down.
But he was determined on making a fuss.
Who knows how long he’d been keeping those thoughts inside of him?
Who knows how much resentment he had been building up?
“Can’t you see you’re making tens of thousands of dollars per year while I can barely scratch the surface? It can’t go on like this…” he argued.
“Have you lost your damn mind? What is up with you this evening? Have you had too much to drink and now you want to bully someone?”
“Aha! You see? You’re already acting bossy with me. Do you think I don’t know it’s all about the money? I know what you’re thinking, but you’re too afraid to say anything. At least not yet…” he said, pointing his finger at me.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Have I ever said anything about your money? Don’t you think I knew from the beginning you weren’t earning much? If I was to chase you for your money, you should know that you wouldn’t even be on my radar. So please calm down and let me have some rest,” I tried to calm him down.
“You see, soon enough you’ll start complaining I don’t make as much money as you, because you women are the same: you want a man who will provide for you. This game will not last long, and in a month or year, what?”
“So you want me to take a factory job just to make you happy? Well, pal, it’s not going happen. I’m sorry for you, but no man is going to dictate my life. I am a intelligent woman and I have the right to earn money.”
I left for another room but I could still hear him mumbling about the fight.
“I’ll leave you, and then we’ll see how tough you
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