Knowing Your Value Read Online Free PDF Page A

forty-something woman on TV requires that I wake up around 3:30 every morning and go through a numbing routine in order to look presentable on high-definition TV. A female anchor’s hair, makeup, and clothes are scrutinized both inside and outside the network, and if something
seems off, she will hear about it in e-mails or even a phone call from the front office.
    NBC wasn’t providing a wardrobe, so I had to fend for myself on Morning Joe . I found out very quickly that it was extremely difficult for me to handle the clothing aspect of being on the air three hours a day. I didn’t need Chanel or Gucci, but I needed to look put together and at the very least make sure my clothes and hair were not a distraction. But looking camera-ready requires a wardrobe, and assembling a wardrobe takes a lot of time and costs a lot of money—the two things in my life that were in short supply.
    I remember one time running down to the Lord & Taylor near my home and grabbing a bunch of cheap V-neck sweaters. I figured I would save time searching for “new” outfits by simply wearing different colors.
    A few weeks later, those sweaters wore out their welcome. I began receiving rude comments via e-mail about wearing the same thing every day. Some of these messages came from determined viewers who managed to find their way into my inbox. If a handful of viewers felt so strongly that they’d try that hard to get through to me, they probably weren’t alone.
    Clothes and hair were becoming my daily enemy. They represented everything that was wrong with my position at MSNBC. Not only was I was not getting paid what I was worth, but after the added cost of a new wardrobe and quality haircuts I was actually losing money by working at the network.
    I knew I deserved a raise. I knew I needed a raise. But I still felt anxious about asking to be compensated for what I was
bringing to the show. Lots of people considered me a hit, but how did I really know that management agreed? My current salary implied that they still thought of me as a freelancer.
    I brought all these feelings with me when I asked for a raise. I actually thought that if I explained to NBC’s front office about the clothes and the travel, and how the math didn’t make sense, they would respond to my concerns. Looking back (and knowing what I’ve learned while writing this book), I may as well have said, “Hi. Please don’t give me a raise, okay?”
    I went to see Phil Griffin, the president of MSNBC, who to this day is a friend, but we didn’t know each other that well then. I sat down in his office and said, “I’m sorry if this is bad timing. I don’t want to be a problem. I’m absolutely certain that this is a great show. I’m buying clothes for the shift, I’m buying makeup, I’m trying to keep my hair the way it should look.” I went on to say, “I really don’t want to be a diva or high maintenance or anything. But the way the numbers add up at the end of the month, I need to make more. I really hope you can understand that.”
    I was nervous and struggling to articulate both facts and emotions. I was appealing to what I thought would be his ... what, generous side? It certainly wasn’t Phil’s job to care about wardrobe details, and I had signed an agreement. The conversation was a disaster. Needless to say I left Phil’s office without a raise, but it would be unfair to focus the blame on him. At that time I still didn’t realize why my plea failed. I didn’t know what was wrong with my approach, and given my age and professional experience, that’s simply not right.

    By the time we returned to New York from covering the primaries, the tension was building. We were still working like hell, moving on to Election Day and the inauguration. It was a constant, driving battle. Every day I could feel myself edging one step closer to the breaking point. I was doing four long hours, and the guys were lumbering off the set at nine, going to relax in their