Debra Lee - I Am Debra Lee

What salary do you see yourself making in life?

Wait, is he serious? For weeks Id been contemplating that same million-dollar question. But I had no idea that my boss, BETs charismatic chairman and CEO, Bob Johnson, noticed the wheels churning in my head. Or that I had one foot already out the door. Bob was Bob though. He always knew what you were thinking before you said itand he loved to put folks on the spot, which is exactly what he was doing by casually asking me my number over lunch. What do you see yourself making in life? My answer was simple: more. But I couldnt say that. It had been nearly a decade since Bob hired me away from Big Law to become BETs first general counsel. The open sky of the networks possibilities had drawn me in and convinced me to take a huge pay cut. Now, almost 10 years and as many jobs later, I deserved more. Bob knew that but had shot me down months before when I requested a raise. What my boss didnt know was that I had been plotting my exit ever since.

I took a beat, looked directly in his eyes, and offered my honest answer: A million dollars.

A million? Thats it? he said with a smirk.

I shook my head. This was just like Bob. Pulling me back in when he knew I was on my way out.

It had taken me a long time (too long) to work up the courage to ask for a much-deserved raisenothing big, Id requested maybe 10 percent more than what Id been makingand Bobs no was practically instant. When I first joined BET in 1986, I begrudgingly accepted an $18,000 pay cut. Cable was the Wild Wild West of communications, and I wanted in after five years of trying to shoehorn myself into a white-shoe law firm. By the time BET came around I was more than ready to leap into a new adventure. Plus, Bob assured me that Id be making much more eventually. Hed all but guaranteed that his company was going to be the next big thing in the budding cable industry and the media world at large. The man spun magic. A salesman if there ever was one, Bob could convince anyone of anything. One of his favorite pastimes was proving to anyone whod listen that bacon wasnt pork! The man was unbelievableand yet we all believed. His vision was the future, and the rest of us better hop on board or be left in the dust. He knew how to read people and get what he wanted. In a profile about his budding cable company, Washingtonian Magazine dubbed Bob the Smooth Operator, and that title followed him throughout his career. If Bob said the money would follow, then it would. Or so I thought.

But as the years racked up, so did my responsibilities. I was quite literally doing the most: spearheading our IPO, developing new business strategy, overseeing the construction of our first production studio, even heading up our budding magazine division. Bobs favorite saying back then was Oh, dont worry, Debra can do that. I could, and I did.

Look, Im doing all these extra jobs, I explained during a long-overdue compensation committee meeting with Bob and Tyrone Brown and Herb Wilkins, both board members of BET Holdings. I dont mind doing the work. I love it, in fact. But we all know its a lot and much more than what my singular title of General Counsel indicated. I think my pay should reflect that, dont you? The two of them remained silent and took me in from across the table, revealing nothing. Bobs philosophy had always been pay everyone the same. All the senior vice presidents earned equal salaries and identical pay increases. On the surface it seemed fair, although it was anything but. It took guts to stand up for oneself in that environmentand my stomach was in knots the entire timebut I knew what I was worth. The question was, did they?

Im just asking for recognition that Im doing more and more extra work, I said.

Debra, began Herb in a tone that was both condescending and unsurprising. There are a ton of folks who would kill for a job like yours. If you dont like what Bob pays you, then you should probably leave. And thats exactly what I did. I excused myself from the table, power walked to the restaurants bathroom, and cried.

This wasnt just about the money. That was never my North Star. I cried because my time at BET was over and I knew it. Theyd crossed a line between what was fair and what was downright insulting. Id spent nine years working harder and longer than what my job description called for, and they still didnt respect me. There was no way I could pour so much of myself into a company and get nothing in return but a pat on the back. I didnt want to leave, I had to.

I splashed cold water on my face and went back to my seat at the table with a tight smile. Herb looked satisfied as I eased back into my chair and silently picked at my plate. Bob knew exactly how upset I was; my eyes were still red. But we never talked about my salary again. That is until the million-dollar lunch a few months later.

A million? Thats it? The zeros didnt matter. Listen, my mother worked as a ward clerk at the Black hospital in town, and my dad was a career military man. A million dollars was and is a lot of money. But what I didnt realize then was that I could and should dream bigger, not only for myself but for them. I was trained to be a lawyerto close the deals that made everyone else moneyand my vision for my future had yet to catch up to my potential. I couldve said $10 million, $25 million. What Bob really wanted to know was how big I saw my career, not my bank account. That smirk? He wasnt mocking me (well, maybe a little), he was giving me a nudge. A million wasnt enough because this wasnt about a number, it was about where I wanted to go. Was I content being the networks general counsel forever, or did I see myself as more?