How I Negotiated a 22% Raise (and What I Learned About Asking for What You Want)
The number that changed everything wasn't mine. It was Tyler's.
We'd been at the same company for almost the same amount of time. Same team, similar projects, roughly equal performance reviews. Tyler was fine — I'm not throwing him under the bus here — but I'd shipped more, stayed later, and covered for him during a rough patch he had in his personal life. I genuinely didn't think about compensation that much. I was making $74,000 a year, which felt like enough, which is a very specific kind of financial naivety.
Then I accidentally saw Tyler's W-2 on the printer. $91,500.
I stood there in the copy room for probably thirty seconds longer than was normal.
The Part I'm Not Proud Of
My first reaction wasn't strategic. It was embarrassed and kind of ashamed — like, what's wrong with me? Why hadn't I ever pushed? I'd been at that company for three years, gotten two raises totaling maybe 17,000 on the table every single year.
That's not a small number. That's a vacation. That's a car payment. That's compounding interest over a decade in an index fund.
The shame turned into research pretty quickly.
What I Actually Did Before the Meeting
I gave myself two weeks before I said anything to anyone at work. Those two weeks were busy.
I started with Glassdoor, which confirmed that my title — Senior Marketing Associate — was paying between 96,000 at comparable companies in my city. Then I found Levels.fyi, which is more tech-focused but still useful for understanding how compensation tiers actually work. I checked LinkedIn Salary data. I built a little spreadsheet. (Yes, a spreadsheet. Don't judge me.)
More importantly, I wrote down everything I'd done in the past eighteen months. Not a job description — actual accomplishments with numbers attached. I'd launched a campaign that generated $340,000 in attributed pipeline. I'd onboarded and trained three junior team members, none of which was technically in my job description. I'd reduced our email unsubscribe rate by 18% through testing I'd initiated on my own time. On paper, I looked pretty good. In my head, I'd been treating all of that like it was just... what you're supposed to do.
I also told my friend Marcus what I was planning. He'd negotiated twice in his career and done it successfully both times. We literally practiced the conversation over beers one Tuesday night, him playing my manager, me trying not to sound like I was going to cry or apologize for existing. That practice session was embarrassing and necessary in equal measure.
One more thing I did: I quietly started poking around at other opportunities. Not because I was ready to leave, but because I needed to know I could. I updated my resume, had one coffee chat with a recruiter, and identified that I could probably get to 92,000 somewhere else within a couple months if I really tried. I also spent some evenings thinking through my side hustle income as a buffer if everything somehow went sideways. Knowing I had options changed my posture completely — I stopped feeling desperate and started feeling like someone who had a choice.
The Actual Conversation (Play by Play)
I requested the meeting on a Thursday morning, kept the calendar invite vague — "quick catch-up" — and scheduled it for the following Wednesday at 10am. Not Monday (too chaotic), not Friday (too checked-out). Mid-week, mid-morning.
My manager Dana is a reasonable person who I genuinely like. That made it harder, not easier. It felt like a confrontation with someone I didn't want to confront. I walked into the conference room with my notes on my phone and a very specific number in my head: $93,000.
I did not open with that number.
I opened with the past eighteen months. I walked through three specific accomplishments with the dollar figures and percentages I'd already prepared. I kept it to about three minutes, which felt too short while I was doing it but was probably correct in retrospect. Dana nodded, said "yeah, you've really stepped up," and I knew the moment was right.
I said something like: "Based on what I'm seeing in the market and what I've contributed this past year, I'd like to talk about getting my compensation to $93,000."
Then I stopped talking.
This is the part Marcus had drilled into me: shut up after you say the number. Every instinct in my body wanted to fill the silence with qualifiers and apologies. I mean, I know budgets are tight, and obviously I'm happy here, and I don't want to make this weird— No. You say the number. You wait.
Dana's face did a thing. Not a bad thing, but a considering thing. She said she'd need to look at where the team was in the budget cycle and could she get back to me.
I said absolutely, and asked if end of week worked for her.
The Counter-Offer Dance
End of week, Dana came back with 11,000 more than I was making. It felt like a lot.
But Marcus's voice was in my head: never accept the first offer. Even when it's good. There's almost always room.
I said: "I really appreciate that, Dana. I'm genuinely excited about staying here long-term. I was hoping we could get closer to $90,000 — is there any flexibility there?"
Another pause. Another considering face.
She came back the next day with $90,500 and an extra week of PTO.
I said yes. The whole thing, start to finish, was maybe four conversations totaling about forty-five minutes. The actual number-stating part of the first meeting was about twelve minutes.
I'd been avoiding this conversation for three years.
What Comes After
The first paycheck felt surreal. Not because I was suddenly rich — $90,500 in a mid-cost-of-living city is comfortable but not dramatic — but because I understood something I hadn't before. That gap between what I was making and what I could be making wasn't based on my performance. It was based on my silence.
Nobody was going to walk up and hand me money I didn't ask for. The system isn't built that way. Companies budget for raises and then give you the smallest number they can that keeps you reasonably happy. That's not villainous, it's just how organizations work when they have budgets to manage.
The other thing that shifted was how I carried myself in meetings after that. Not arrogantly — I still have impostor syndrome about a lot of things. But there was something about having had that conversation and survived it that made other uncomfortable conversations feel more survivable too.
What I'd Tell Anyone Who's Nervous About This
Timing matters more than you think. Before a performance review, after a big win, during a period when you know the company is doing well — those are your windows. Asking for a raise right after your company loses a major client is a different conversation than asking right after you personally helped land one.
Research is non-negotiable. You need a specific number backed by specific data. "I feel like I deserve more" is a bad pitch. "Based on market data for this role in this city and the outcomes I've delivered, $X is appropriate" is a real pitch.
Silence is a weapon. I cannot stress this enough. When you say the number, stop talking. The discomfort you feel in that silence is the other person thinking, and that thinking is what you want.
And have alternatives. Not as a threat — don't walk in waving a competing offer like a prop. But internally, you need to know what you'd do if they said no. Options give you a posture that desperation doesn't.
If I hadn't found out what Tyler was making, I'd probably still be at $74,000, still telling myself I was lucky to have a job I liked.
I'm glad I stood at that printer long enough to do the math.
Once you have more money coming in, the question becomes what to do with it. The books that changed how I think about money gave me a framework, and building an actual portfolio turned the raise from a lifestyle bump into real wealth building.
