Yes, I accept this term. I will change my name, forever, to Jennifer.

You think about this for a long time, but ultimately decide that yes, you can accept a name change to Jennifer. After all, you're desire to become a woman for life is already {I want to be a woman}%, thanks to the training program.

"Yes, I can accept this term," you say.

The two men breath a sigh of relief. You think it's strange that they think this is such a big deal. What is so bad about becoming a woman for the rest of your life after all? Isn't that a pretty sexist attitude?

They pass over the official state change-of-name forms. You notice there is also an official set of change-of-gender forms, which you are also required to sign.

Something about seeing:

Gender: F

Seems so official! It makes your heart pound.

"This next term is targeted directly at punishing you for your transgression," the head partner, Mr. Cambridge, says. "As a gesture of how seriously The Firm looks upon this incident, they want you to be demoted to an entry-level position, like a personal assistant or receptionist."

"Demoted?" you gasp, your voice coming out as a bit of a wail.

"Yes, demoted. Specifically, your salary must be no more than 1.5 times minimum wage."

Your eyes grow wide and you want to cry. Your salary will be more than cut in half. How will you live? Where will you live? You'll have to move out of your apartment, probably get rid of most of your stuff and find a roommate or something.

Your eyes fill up with tears and you desperately root through your purse before you find some tissues to carefully dab at your eyes so you don't ruin your makeup.

"But I can quit, right? And then go work someplace else?" you ask, desperately.

"No. In order to meet the terms of the agreement, you must work at this level, at The Firm, for a minimum of 7 years."

"SEVEN YEARS?"

You break down into sobs. If you do this, your career, such as it was, as a paralegal would cease to exist. At the end of seven years, no one will want to hire you for anything but a secretary, receptionist, or personal assistant ever again. You will be, pretty much, stuck.