I am Cristina Pritchard, Vice President of Financial Planning and Analysis. I am essentially the forecaster for our company’s financial forecasting. In my spare time, I shuttle my kids to events, grocery shop and sleep. The good stuff. I like deep discussions on topics that we all deal with, but rarely discuss. I forget simple things (names, phone numbers, what I’m trying to say) when I’m anxious or nervous. I’m anxious and nervous in large groups.

As a child, I wanted to work with money, so I decided to become a bank teller. That was the extent of my exposure to women in finance. During high school, I shadowed my neighbor in her office. She was an executive assistant. My goal was to work downtown in an office building and organize files, edit presentations and manage schedules. That day, I learned I wanted to do those things and be in charge of the presentation ideas.

In college, I was contacted by the Big 6 accounting firms to work as an auditor. Honestly, I didn’t know what an auditor did, but I knew their top students worked there. Additionally, their interns were rewarded with a week at Disney World. When I entered public accounting, I discovered women in accounting and finance exponentially. Sallie Mae was my client. I didn’t want to audit anymore, I wanted to control. A public accountant works 100 hour weeks (bragging about it to colleagues and looking down on them for working only 90). You arrive at the office before dawn and leave after sunset without seeing the sun. I was always reminded there was more to do; it wasn’t enough.

I thrived at Sallie Mae because there was always something new to learn, something new to do, fascinating people to meet. I started as a supervisor in 2003 and eventually led the group. My curiosity motivated me to learn new skills. Managing Director was my dream title since starting at Sallie Mae. That would make me feel like I had succeeded.

Barb Deemer came into my office in the spring of 2017 and suggested an idea. I was bored as a managing director, but I made it so why wasn’t I fulfilling? That’s what drives me now. I didn’t know I missed learning. I missed being challenged. The VP of Finance left. He was burned out. She thought I would be excellent; I wasn’t sure. I knew I would be wrong, a lot. I hate being wrong. I didn’t want to work until I burned out (I had three kids at the time, including a 2-year-old!) But I knew I could do it differently. You don’t realize how brutal that first year was. Each night, I drove home crying. I thought I had ruined my life. What’s the point? Why do I need to strive?

I knew what I needed to do; I could identify potential fires before they became infernal. There were fewer surprise emails, fire drills, panic, tears. After learning so much and participating in company decisions, I am once again thriving. Despite the fact that I know what the future holds (even though it’s part of my job), I love it.

Why Representation Turns Possibility into Reality

There’s a cliché: you don’t know what you don’t know. When I saw women leading, I realized I could do the same. Sometimes I don’t know what I want to say, but when I hear, read and see it, it clicks. Some can see the possibilities when they don’t exist, but others cannot. We have to see it to believe it.

“In the process of watching another colleague’s career soar, I patiently awaited my turn. I never negotiated for a salary because I was grateful for what I was being offered.”

I would like to share a story. Before the pandemic, I was a mentor for women in finance. The program was designed to attract and retain women in male-dominated leadership roles. While my mentor is male, they are trying to change that. My experience at this convention is that I am often the only one like me. I call myself a unicorn. My girly side and my love of sparkles and the question of whether unicorns exist gave me confidence to take my place at the table instead of waiting for someone else to acknowledge me.

The Long Road from Survival to Self-Belief

I spent a lot of time thinking about this question. Throughout my career, I believed the key to success was to blend in with the old boys club. I had an older brother growing up; I could hang. When I was in meetings, I did not speak up, but provided ideas to others whose voices were respected. In the process of watching another colleague’s career soar, I patiently awaited my turn. I never negotiated for a salary because I was grateful for what I was being offered. I rationalized this by saying that as a working mom, I needed flexibility above all else, and it had to come at a price. I didn’t think I should be paid top dollar and able to take sick days for my children.

Several male colleagues were rude to me; others wanted me to do their work. Others were ambivalent. I planned to prove the haters wrong. I planned to compete and win. Whenever I’m in a position to win, I look for them. My marriage is another story.

When you work hard, you go the extra mile; sometimes you have to be cold and rude to avoid being taken advantage of. Looking back, the experience was exhausting and hard. It’s sad I wouldn’t be respected because I was a woman, or a young, or a mother, or fill in your own characteristic. Those insecurities are both my strengths and weaknesses. On good days, they drive me. It’s a struggle for me. On bad days, I am driven by the voices in my head.

Today, my perspective continues to evolve. Having a teenage daughter has altered my perspective again. I want her not to blend, compete, or struggle the same way that I did. To achieve this, I must lead by example. Following her advice, I am vulnerable. Passionate. Tell your stories. Lists! Listen to your gut! The hater didn’t last; enough said about them. Instead of worrying about what others think, I now care about myself and hopefully provide others with opportunities to speak up.