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Somehow, though my legs feel like jelly, I manage to walk back to the head of the table without tripping. I lower myself into the seat. I fold my hands and place them on the table. Is that something a managing partner would do? I consider unfolding them, but choose to leave them as they are. I open my mouth, ready to launch into my greetings, but someone says, “There must’ve been a mistake. Can we possibly speak to the man in charge of this firm?”
The speaker is a man who looks like he’s in his late twenties. He wears a navy blue suit, with his hair slicked back and a huge gold Rolex gleaming on his left wrist. The older man sitting to his left, presumably his father based on the similarities in their faces, boasts an even larger Rolex on his wrist.
I smile inwardly. I’ve been feeling uncertain of how to behave the way Baba would at an acquisitions meeting, but casual workplace sexism? Ah, this I know how to handle. I’ve been facing it as far back as high school, when my fellow female friends and I often found ourselves vastly outnumbered by boys in our STEM classes. And there is nothing as hateful as nerd boys who find themselves being bested in calculus by their female counterparts. I can almost hear the click as the mask falls into place. I am not Mulan right now.I am Zhou, managing partner of this company. Old-school finance bro.
When I speak, my voice comes out loud, clear, and calm. “And you are?”
“James Li,” the man says. He gestures to the older man wearing the Rolex. “And this is my dad, Hong.”
“James, Mr. Hong, nice to meet you,” I say in the same tone of voice, which is calm and yet firm. “The person in charge of this place is me, and I look forward to us working together very closely.” Without giving them a chance to protest, I continue, “And now shall we commence?” Baba has countless tactics to steer business conversations in the direction he wants, and he does it so seamlessly that most people don’t realize that they are being steered.
Mushu snaps her fingers at Gerald, and he rushes about, handing everyone a booklet we’ve prepared for this very meeting. Meanwhile, Mushu herself turns on the large TV behind my seat and it switches on to our presentation.
I know that the presentation is flawless: When I was working up the corporate ladder as an associate, one of the many tasks I was in charge of was creating sophisticated presentations for shareholders, complete with financial models and analyses of the ventures we were looking at acquiring. I’ve assisted Baba in numerous meetings to raise funds for new acquisitions, and I know exactly what people want to hear and can anticipate the questions they might have.
But what I haven’t experienced in a long time is the hostility I am now sensing from the majority of the Li family. As I take them through my analysis and forecast, the waves of hostility coming from these people are so palpable that I can almost smell them, like a heavy stench that everyone is pretending not to notice.
What the hell is their problem? Sure, they may be taken aback by the fact that “Zhou” has turned out to be a young woman, but at the end of the day, business is business. Could these people be so sexist that they can’t see what’s right in front of them: that by offering to buy them out, I am, in fact, saving their failing company?
Still, I soldier on, presenting slide after slide to show them why Facai Capital is the right home for Wutai Gold. I look each of them in the eye as I talk, and I am surprised to find that the only people who aren’t openly glaring at me are Shang and Auntie Jiayi, so I end up directing most of the presentation at them. Well, I wouldn’t describe the way Shang is looking at me asfriendly, exactly, but at least he looks like he’s paying genuine attention to the presentation. When I finish, Mushu claps enthusiastically. Gerald follows suit.
“Woo-hoo, awesome job, Boss!” Mushu says. Then, sensing the frigid atmosphere in the room, she quickly stops clapping and nudges Gerald, who stuffs his hands in his pockets like he just got caught doing something bad.
“Thank you,” Shang says. His voice is clipped, neutral.
I drag my gaze from his handsome granite face.
“That was the best presentation I have ever seen,” Auntie Jiayi says warmly.
Hong snorts. “Oh? And how many presentations of financial analysis and projections have you sat through, Jiayi?”
Pink blooms on Jiayi’s cheeks and she lowers her head, her lips pursed.
“My mother’s read more on the theory of finance than you could ever know, Uncle Hong,” Shang says.
“ReadingRich Dad Poor Dadhardly counts as learning the theory of finance. No offense, Auntie Jiayi,” James says.What a prick.
A muscle pulses visibly on the side of Shang’s jaw as he leans forward, about to say something, but his mother places a hand on his arm, and I catch sight of the invisible connection between mother and son. Shang sits back in his seat, taking a breath before transferring his attention to me.
“My mom’s right, that was an impressive presentation, thank you,” he says, and though he said it a bit stiffly, there’s also grudging admiration on his face.
A warm glow spreads across my body, relaxing my muscles. I’ve done it. I managed to carry the presentation through.
“But we can’t possibly sell the company to you,” James says.
“Why not?” I say, my face remaining impassive. It’s the only way I’ve learned to deal with misogyny in the finance industry. Keep calm and come across as innocuous, and ask them to explain until they inevitably out themselves.
James laughs, and it’s not a nice laugh, more of a snigger. “Well, obviously you don’t know what our brand stands for.”
“Well, I did do a lot of research into the history of Wutai Gold before approaching Shang for a potential investment opportunity, but perhaps you can tell me what the brand stands for.”
James looks at me with an incredulous expression, as though he can’t believe how slow I’m being. “It’s a whiskey company.”
I nod, giving him an expectant smile. “Yes, I am aware of that.”
“And we’ve been known as the drink of choice of the man’s man.”
“Ah, yes, of course.”