I STOOD IN THE POURING RAIN FOR THREE DAYS HOLDING A SOAKED TISSUE WHILE THE GUARDS MOCKED MY POVERTY. THE HEAD OF SECURITY SHOUTED 'GET THIS TRASH OFF MY SIDEWALK' BEFORE SHOVING ME INTO THE MUD, BUT THE CEO STEPPED OUT OF HIS LIMO AND SAW THE ONE THING THEY ALL MISSED. The rain in this city doesn't just fall; it judges you. It seeps through the layers of a cheap, oversized coat and settles into your bones until you forget what it feels like to be dry. I was eight years old, standing on the cor

THEY MADE ME SIT ON THE FLOOR BECAUSE 'CHAIRS ARE FOR PEOPLE WHO MATTER.' I CLUTCHED MY NOTEBOOK, MORTIFIED. THEN THEIR FATHERS WALKED IN, SAW ME, AND THEIR FACES WENT WHITE. THEY DIDN'T DARE SIT; THEY WAITED FOR MY PERMISSION TO SPEAK. The floor was cold, even through my cheap pantyhose. Every time someone shifted in their Herman Miller chair, the sound vibrated up my spine, a little earthquake of disrespect. I tried to focus on Mr. Harrison’s drone about quarterly projections, but the burn in