In With the Old

I have finally done it. As I pick up my very elaborate coffee order - because I can treat myself today - things around me appear just a little bit brighter. The long queue in the coffee shop across the street from my office is not annoying but rather a rare opportunity to slow down and sit with my thoughts while I wait for the coffee to be brewed. The constant thrum of pop music in the background is not overstimulating, but rather gives me a new song to add to my playlist. It’s a rare day of wins.

Today I will be getting my promotion. No longer a junior lawyer in a team that uses my current job title as an excuse to give me the most tedious tasks that an intern could do, yet keeping me in the office well past my contracted hours most days. After the meeting with my manager today, I will be officially promoted to the role of an associate.

The legal profession is often seen as quite snobby, and never does it shine through as much as when discussing seniority levels. I’m no way near as important as a partner, but becoming an associate will finally make worth the years of law school while working part-time, late nights, sacrificed time with friends, and next to no credit or ownership over my work.

I slowly sip on the scalding brown sugar latte with an extra shot, as I re-enter my office. Lane is already waiting for me at the reception area and is motioning for me to join her in one of the smaller meeting rooms. I sit across from her, a small but hopeful smile on my face. The calendar invite did not elaborate what the “career discussion” would entail, but considering that three of my peers who started around the same time as me have had their promotions confirmed in meetings just like this one, I am quietly confident in what she is about to tell me.

“So, you know we have been very impressed with the level of commitment you have shown to the team. You’re a real team player. I think one of the senior associates described you as ‘a dog with a bone’ - just the kind of lawyer we need at Kinley & Cannon,” Lane says while looking at her open laptop.

“Of course, I’m always happy to go the extra mile to get the best for our clients.”

I’m really being modest here - I have lost count of the times I have left the office, only to go home for a shower and a change of clothes and to return to work within the hour. My hyper-fixation does sometimes help in a job like this. But being humble is also important - we are a very successful firm that started out as a tiny high-street two-man operation, so we are told to never lose sight of that culture. Even when the billable hour targets grow every year.

“Very good, yes. The partners have had a discussion, and we think you are ready for the next step,” she finally looks up at me.

“Yes, I’m definitely ready,” I say nodding my head vigorously.

“We would like for you to take the secondment with LW Gaming,” Lane says with an apologetic smile, as if she knows this was not the news I was expecting.

I can’t help but let my work mask slip as my shoulders sag and my face becomes blank. As I realise what I’m doing, I return to a smile albeit a much smaller one than earlier. I don’t want to be labelled as difficult, especially not after all of the accommodations made for me, so I do my best to moderate my reaction. But I also don’t want to appear disingenuous, so I try to think of some positives. This is not the news I hoped for, but maybe a secondment could be good for me?

A new setting, new projects, a new office, a new commute, new colleagues who won’t know that I’m autistic and I will again have to explain everything all over again and a new manager who will have to go through my accessibility requests again. Okay, I see where this train of thought is taking me - I will not spiral! One thing at a time.

“When would the secondment start?” I ask trying to keep my tone light.

“They have a new release that requires a lot of support integrating existing intellectual property into their game, all the contracts are done but they urgently need help with day-to-day queries, mostly on implementing the agreed parameters to avoid later having to re-work the game. Monday would be ideal, but they might be able to move things around if that is too soon for you,” Lane looks at me with raised eyebrows.

Being told about moving to what is essentially a brand new role with less than a week’s notice is not ideal. I’ve stopped sipping my coffee because my hands are shaking too much to pick up the cup without Lane noticing. I’m just staring into space, thinking about all of the things that I will need to sort out to make this happen. I have done some work for this client before and they have been in the entertainment news a lot lately. The release of their latest movie-turned-game-adaptation was pushed back much to the dismay of the thousands of super-fans.But in practical terms, I don’t know that much about my new workplace.

“Sorry, Lane - could you remind me where their HQ is based?”

I have never visited their offices and I’m not great with geography, but I expect a gaming company to have a snazzy and overpriced office in the tech district. That wouldn’t be that much of a change in my commute at least.

“Ah, of course - I should have mentioned this out of the gate! Because this project is so hands on, this role is not based in their HQ - that’s just where their finance and HR are based. You would work out of their Manchester studio with the developers and designers. So that you’re always available to them. You know, adding the most value,” Lane is no longer sporting her professional smile.

My stomach drops and I shiver at the trickle of cold sweat running down my back. I left Manchester aged 18, with a massive suitcase stuffed with all of my worldly possessions jumping on the cheapest train to London as soon as my university halls opened to receive the first year students. And I have not returned since. In the 12 years since, I have had no reason to return back home and London had now become my de facto home. I had no family in either city, but I kind of felt like a Londoner by now.

“It’s just that, you know I am from Manchester but I have no connections there for accommodation or things like that,” I try not to sound ungrateful, but springing a move like this on me is taking everything in me not to shut myself in the supply cupboard and cry.

“Oh Janey, don’t worry about all that! We are not going to leave you in the lurch. You can work remotely for the first week or so, while you arrange the move, and then we have set up a lease for you near the studio - it’s all very nice, you know for a single person it’s just the thing - all very stylish,” Lane nods at me.

Lane continues talking and I hear what she is telling me but none of the words are registering. I cannot ask my managing partner to repeat herself. So I just nod, finally remembering to plaster a small smile on my face.

Well shit, I guess I am moving to Manchester.