“Exactly,” he came back with. “Your title is oh so important now. It’s like you feel like your title makes you better than everyone else. You’re becoming one of them.”

I didn’t have to ask who “them” were. When he said it in that tone, with that irritated expression on his face, he was referring to wealthy people.

“How so?” I questioned, needing him to give me an example of what he meant.

“Like the other night. We were supposed to go out to that jazz club you like but you stood me up.”

“I didn’t stand you up. I called you well ahead of time and informed you that our company’s CFO personally invited me and a few others out to dinner. There was no way I could turn that down. He’s the man who has the ability to influence my career for years to come.” Standing up implied that I’d just not shown up … at least, that’s what it meant to me. That hadn’t been the case at all.

“See what I mean? The Deborah Tate I met four years ago would’ve told the CFO to go screw himself.”

I frowned as I stared across the table. Cohen and I had been friends for a couple of years before we started dating. I’d gone to an economics seminar on Williamsport University’s campus about a year after moving to the city. I’d been invited by a work colleague. And while Cohen and I shared similar beliefs on inequality, I don’t know what ever had given him the impression that I’d tell the head of my department to go screw himself.

“Maybe we just see things differently,” I said, raising the glass of sweet tea to my lips, sipping from the plastic straw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was defensive, and while I hadn’t meant to put him on the defense, I wouldn’t back down from it either.

“Exactly what I said. I happen to like my job. And yes, I want to succeed in it and grow with my career, and increase my salary. Women throughout history did not fight for the right to vote, better work opportunities, and more equitable pay … hell, things we’re still fighting for, just for me to be ashamed of my ambition.” Unlike Cohen, I wasn’t born with life handed to me. He was five years older than my nearly twenty-seven years. He’d been able to take time off between college and graduate school to backpack through Europe. From the moment I left Stanford, I’d hit the ground running, and as a result, had received two promotions within the last five years, and the salary increases to match. I would never be ashamed of my accomplishments.

“You’re becoming one of them. Following the crowd.”

I pushed out a puff of air, knowing this conversation was leading us nowhere. “Let’s change the topic before we both end up saying something we don’t mean. How is your research for your dissertation coming along?”