“I’m not going back to FMG,” I tell him. “I will never make that firm another dime for as long as I live. But do you lose the promotion if you don’t go to San Francisco?” “I couldn’t care less about that promotion,” he says. “If you’d wanted to stay at FMG, I’d have suggested we go to San Francisco together. But since you don’t…I have a better idea. What if we both left FMG and went out on our own?” I’m so dumbfounded I can barely find the right words. “You want to leave? And start a new firm with me?”
