Part 1My Clients Are My Real Equity

“The finalized stock option list is out.”

Sarah Miller, our Head of Operations, handed me the file.

I took it and scanned the names, top to bottom.

Ms. Elena, the cleaning staff, 0.1%.

The girl at the front desk, 0.05%.

Dean Harrison, the new Director who joined six months ago, 0.3%.

I flipped through it three times.

My name wasn’t there.

“Vivian.” Marcus King, the CEO, walked out of his office. “Stock options are for incentivization, and you, as a core player, are already motivated. You don't need them.”

I looked up at him.

His smile was perfectly sincere.

I smiled back.

“Got it, Marcus.”

I put the list back on the table, my lips holding the curve of that fake smile.

Ten years.

* * *

My name is Vivian Lee. I’m thirty-five.

I’ve been at this company for exactly ten years.

A decade ago, we were twenty people. I was Employee Number Eight.

Marcus couldn’t afford office space then, so we crammed into his living room and wrote code on the sofa.

I didn’t have a desk; I worked hunched over his coffee table.

No AC in the summer meant sweat soaking my t-shirts; no heat in the winter meant my fingers were stiff and raw.

“Vivian,” Marcus used to say, “just hold on a little longer. When we go public, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

I believed him.

And I held on for ten years.

In that time, the company grew from twenty to two hundred people.

We moved from a cluttered living room into a sleek downtown high-rise.

We went from missing payroll to pulling in tens of millions in annual revenue.

Along the way, I led three project teams, trained three of our current project managers.

I personally managed eight core clients, which accounted for sixty percent of the company’s total revenue.

I thought I was a founding pillar.

I thought that when this day finally came, my name would be right at the top of the list.

And the result?

Ms. Elena, the cleaning lady, got 0.1%. Based on our current valuation, that was $50,000.

The front desk girl got 0.05%.

Dean Harrison, who’s been here six months, got 0.3%.

Me?

Zero.

I stared at the list for a long time.

Sarah walked over, lowering her voice. “Vivian, maybe talk to Marcus? It could be an oversight.”

An oversight?

I’d been here a decade. How could he possibly forget me?

I just smiled and shook my head, saying nothing.

That night, my husband, Jake, asked what was wrong.

I said, “Nothing.”

He saw my face and pressed me again.

“The company released the stock option list,” I finally said.

“How much did you get?”

“Ms. Elena got 0.1%.”

“That’s good for her,” he paused. “What about you?”

I didn’t answer.

He frowned, and the realization hit him.

“Goddamn it.”

It was one of the few times I’d ever heard Jake swear.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling until morning.

Ten years.

I worked until ten every night and spent most weekends tethered to my laptop.

My mom took our son, Leo, to his first day of kindergarten because I was on a business trip.

Jake took time off work to care for Leo when he was hospitalized with a fever, because I was closing a deal.

I missed so much life.

I told myself it would be worth it.

Now, I realized how utterly ridiculous that was.

The next morning, I walked into the office as usual.

Marcus passed my desk and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Vivian, you saw that list yesterday?”

“I did.”

“The options thing, well, it’s for incentivization,” he said, still smiling. “You’re a foundational player. You don’t need those kinds of carrots.”

I just looked at him.

He continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your year-end bonus reflects your hard work.”

Year-end bonus?

Last year, my bonus was $15,000. Dean, in his first year, pulled in $25,000.

“Marcus,” I said. “I understand perfectly.”

He nodded, satisfied, and walked away.

I watched his back, but said nothing more.