“If I take another pay cut, I might as well start working pro bono,” I joked with a friend recently, during another brutal round of job hunting in my home-city, Delhi. She, in her early 40s, laughed and said: “I feel the same.”
A few weeks later, I had deja vu on a call with another writer friend in her early 40s. “I’m tired of trying to find a job that pays what I’m worth. No one will hire me unless I drop my expectations to entry level,” she lamented.
