45 - Jennifer Salinas / EVP, Chief Administrative Officer, and General Counsel at Cerence AI

Thank you. I'm super excited to be here as well.

Okay, all right. Well, I'll try. I think the most important thing was just my upbringing—what made me who I am. In fact, I would say my very humble beginnings is honestly why I do what I do, why I serve my community, why I continue to believe that's super important—giving back. So I was born in Los Angeles in San Pedro, but I lived all over the broader LA area. My grandmother lived in a city in Los Angeles called Bell Gardens, right next to East LA and Cudahy. She moved there in the late 1960s or early 1970s and lived there until she passed away in 2008. That's where all of our family would come together for parties and kids' parties. It was a very, very tight-knit community. My grandmother had many jobs; I didn't know she had all these jobs because I always felt like she was available to us, but she always had side jobs too. She would make raspados and sell them for 25 cents, make pepino con chile and sell them for 50 cents. The neighbor across the street would make tortas, and the neighbor up the street would make chicharrones. We were always feeding each other—that's just ingrained in who we are as Mexicans. We were really tight. Whenever there was a problem, people rallied around each other and took care of each other, lifted each other up, celebrated each other's wins. That was so important to see—it was more than just us. You never did anything just based on what served you; you did what was best for the community as a whole and your family. To this day, that's just how I operate—family first, community first.

Yes, as did my mom. My grandfather did not—he passed away in Mexico when my mom was about 12. At that time, you could go back and forth all the time. They worked in the fields, but my mom came here when she was either 12 or 13. She was born in Mexico City; my grandmother was from Guadalajara. My mom worked in the fields. She wasn't good at it—she always talks about how she was fired because it was grueling. Depending on the produce, she would end up completely screwed up and bloody. It was very hard work, and speed was everything. So she went from doing that to watching the children at the location, then eventually being sent off to watch a Caucasian family an hour away. She must have been 14 at the time and became a nanny. I was the first person in my family to graduate from high school, let alone go to college and law school. But one thing I used to not share at all—I was very ashamed of it—is that I grew up in a domestic violence home. That made a huge impact. I wanted to make sure that whatever I did, I could leave a situation and take care of my kids. My mom did not know her rights. She stayed in a relationship that was very abusive, not just to her but to her kids. But she didn't know what her options were. She didn't feel she had options at all. She didn't leave that situation until I was in my 20s. It was really difficult growing up, but I like to say that I turned speed bumps into jet fuel. It just drove me. My fourth-grade teacher put a bug in my head that I was going to be a lawyer, so that was it. Someone told you what to do because you had absolutely no idea, no guidance. Nobody I knew was a lawyer. I just knew that whatever I did, I was going to make sure I could take care of my kids and have options.

It's such a good question. I really don't know. There are all kinds of studies about nature versus nurture. The science now is telling us it's way more nature than nurture—it's ingrained in who you are. My mom said I was always that way. I just always had this drive. No matter how many times I got knocked down, I was going to pull myself back up and continue. I was knocked down many times, and that's okay—it just made me stronger. I think it's also surrounding yourself with people who believe in you and constantly tell you that you can do it. That made a difference.

Trial and error. There are people who don't believe in you, and that is harmful. I just glommed onto them. Let me give you an example. I went to law school. I knew nothing. I made a decision of where to go based on—I had already had a child at that time, my son was a year old, and I was married. I'm sitting in a room at orientation. I don't know anybody. I don't know what I'm doing here. I felt it was the right decision—I learned to listen to that inner voice. I see this woman talking to everybody, and she knows everything. Clearly she knows what she's doing. I immediately was like, 'I got to know this person.' I introduced myself, and we hit it off. To this day, she's one of my dearest closest friends—her name is Chelsea Grayson. She became CEO of American Apparel and then CEO of True Religion. She is an outstanding person. She shared the playbook with me. I still had to do all the work—she didn't tell me how to do anything. We studied together; we were study buddies. But she imparted knowledge like the unspoken rules. There are so many unspoken rules in corporate America. She told me the importance of grades, the importance of studying every single day, never letting up. If I didn't know that beforehand, I think my life would have been very different. So I just listened and listened and watched and read and studied everything I possibly could to better myself. I ended up graduating at the top of my class. That relationship is just one example of many where I saw something and thought, 'I can learn from this person.' The most important thing is that you never stop learning. You continue to grow. You look for someone who can really teach you something, and that's appealing to me.

Thank you. And on the piece of gravitating and learning, I think that pain makes you a better learner. When you're lost and raw and open, you listen to your teacher far more carefully.

I had an insatiable appetite for learning. I was a sponge. You're right—pain was definitely something. When I look back, I'm in law school, I have a baby, I have a marriage that's not going well, my father is mentally ill and going in and out of rehabs—it was bad. It was so bad. How did I graduate at the top of my class? How? It doesn't compute when you think about it. If you look at all the statistics, I should have been something different than where I am now. But that drove me. I talk about it because we need to remove the stigma. We need to be able to have those conversations and tell people: this doesn't define who you are. This is not determining your next course in life. You make that decision.

100% early on. You hit on something that I call discernment. I had to learn early on to walk into a situation and assess it: is this healthy for me? My faith was a very big part of my life and still is. I want to say spirituality more than religion. My grandmother would do rituals—if there was something bad, she'd put an egg under the bed. It taught me that spirituality was super important. Listening to that inner voice and discerning if this is good or bad, healthy or not, has been ingrained in who I am and has helped me figure things out.

The playbook at that time was very tactical—study every day, get good grades, network, which I absolutely hated. I'd go into rooms of people that looked nothing like me, and I never felt like I belonged. Most people were Caucasian. My dad didn't want us to speak Spanish, so my grandmother taught us. People ask if I speak Spanish—I do, but I would never feel comfortable speaking in a business setting in Spanish because it's Spanglish. In the legal field, I never felt like I belonged to any particular community. It's a very elitist profession. But at some point in my career—about 10 years in—I just said, 'You know what? I don't care anymore. This is who I am, all of me, and that makes me who I am.' I became very open about my circumstance and how it drove me. I never wanted to be in a room with someone from my background, younger, who felt they couldn't make it because that defined who they were. I wanted them to know it wasn't going to be a detriment.

Two things. One, I didn't sweat the small stuff. There are problems and then there are real problems. That was from my background. But to hit your point—being in a global company, I can navigate anything. I grew up in a bicultural environment, my mom Mexicana and all that came with it, and my dad American and all that. I didn't have the American first mindset that things need to be a certain way. Most of my clients were foreign—not just in Latin America, but in Asia and Europe. I think it's because I didn't come at it like it has to be done a certain way. Americans can be forceful and not read the room. I didn't have that, and it's because of my upbringing.

There were a few. First, when I went into law school, I wanted to be a family law lawyer. I felt I needed to help women in similar circumstances to my mom. But I worked at a public interest law firm, and we went to domestic violence shelters to provide legal advice—mostly counseling. It was too tough, too close to home. I realized I couldn't do that path. Early on, I knew to go in a different direction. I also did really well in law school, which opened doors—big law firms came at me. And great grades matter. In law school, you're graded on a curve, so you have to kill it. That gave me options. I went to law firms and realized that if you have your own clients, the sky's the limit. Having your own book of business made all the difference. Network, network, network. I used to joke that I was a mist maker before a sprinkler maker before a rain maker. I started small, and that's okay. I became a partner at a law firm, and I got a call from Horacio Gutierrez, who's now general counsel of Disney. He was my mentor—he's awesome. He reached out and said I would do great in-house. I was like, 'What? I'm about to be equity partner.' He saw something in me, and we had long conversations. It was a huge decision because it was a huge pay cut—a third of what I was making. I interviewed for the job and didn't get it, but it put a bug in my head. Fast forward a few years—Lenovo, the computer company, was my client, and they reached out about being head of global litigation. Again, a huge pay cut, relocating from the West Coast to North Carolina. I'm an LA girl going to North Carolina. I would have a boss—I hadn't had a boss in a long time as a partner. But I felt I needed to be on the inside. By the time I got the problem at the law firm, the cake was done. At best, I could put some icing on it, but I didn't help bake the cake. I felt my skill sets would be better served in a corporation. So I took the leap of faith.

It's never been about the money for me. I have to love what I do. That's the biggest lesson. I was a successful equity partner, but I didn't love what I was doing. It was a rat race—the same thing. I wanted something different. I knew I wanted to be the general counsel of a public company. So I was very clear with my boss: 'I'm taking a major pay cut, changing my entire life. I want to be your successor or the general counsel somewhere else.' I wanted her to commit to helping me fill skill gaps. That was the first time in my career where I was very intentional about telling people what I wanted and how they would help me. She committed to that. I believe people need to bet on themselves—take those risks and bet on yourself. I did diligence and heard good things about her. I came in as head of IP litigation, and within months I became head of global litigation at Lenovo, reporting directly to her. About a year and a half in, I got an opportunity to interview for general counsel of one of the business units—I needed that experience. I was the only internal candidate, and I got it. I was still head of global litigation and general counsel of that business unit. I was very clear about what I needed. Then opportunities came, but I didn't feel it was the right time. You have to look inward and ask if you're really ready. A lot of people think they're ready but don't know what it takes. To be at the top, you have to have that calming force and not let stress get the best of you. Not a lot of people do well under that pressure, but I love it—I thrive in that environment.

Exactly. When the chunka is flying...

Almost four. Then I made the big leap to being at the top of the food chain.

Oh yeah. I was one of those kids that would take apart a radio. I would fix anything. I loved technology, loved science, excelled in science and math. It's a stereotype, but it's true. AI totally makes sense—it's a brand match.

No, not totally. But when I was in college, I sold hardware and software. Nobody told me about IP—patents, trademarks, copyrights—or that you could get a degree in math or science and still go to law school. So I took the conventional path of getting a degree in political science. To go into IP without a technical degree was unheard of. It's very complex, and it set me up for all the litigation with AI now.

No, I had not. I got a call from a headhunter. It was funny—I had just had back surgery. Some of the best interviews I've ever had were when I wasn't really there, on pain meds. I was calm without all the noise in my head. I didn't know about the company, but I pride myself on seeing where the world is headed. At that point, in early 2022, not a lot of people knew about AI, certainly not generative AI. But I felt the auto was the next smartphone. What smartphones did to our world, the car is going to do that. You'll get into a car, and it's going to be your assistant—it'll say, 'Claudia, it's Wednesday, your family usually goes to X restaurant. Do you want me to make a reservation?' It knows your habits and you.

Who's Matthew?

So, the company you joined is focused on auto, Cerence AI. We are the voice in your vehicle—in about 52% of all vehicles worldwide.

It had a long history. The auto industry is very traditional, and Cerence, though newly IPO'd in 2019, was part of a much larger company, Nuance, so it had long-standing relationships. But yes, I worried. I was at a big company with no issues, and I took a leap to a smaller one. But I bet on myself—that has never steered me wrong. What's the worst that could happen?

I know that wherever I go, I'm going to kill it. Even if the company had something horrible happen, I could always go back to a law firm. I have long-standing relationships I can always pull on. Sometimes people think if they fail or make the wrong decision, it will determine the rest of their life—they'll have a scarlet letter. That's not true.

There are so many values we have as Latinas—humility, resilience, family, community, loyalty. Humility creates empathy. Being a good boss requires empathy. Every job I've had, people gravitate towards me. I listen and help. So I knew I would be valued when I demonstrated that. But yes, they assumed things about me that weren't true. I hate that I have to prove I'm different from what they think. But being who I am makes me a better boss. I want to talk about loyalty. I let it stand in the way many times—I stayed at places longer than I should have. I heard a statistic that Latinos stay at a company on average 24 months longer than non-Latinos. That's great for employers, not for employees. So I tell people: if you weren't working out, companies wouldn't let loyalty stand in the way. If it's no longer working for you, move on. A company is a legal construct, not a human being. Why give so much? But I think it's a combination of loyalty and maybe being thankful for the opportunity, and risk aversion. Latinos are more loyal to families, values—we don't change political parties or religions as much. We're brand loyal. We should cherish that, but also recognize when it's not serving us. Be loyal to yourself.

I would be disingenuous if I didn't say the reality is I had to work harder than everybody else. Someone recently said, 'Every time I have a Latino or Latina come through the door to interview, they had to work double from the person before.' That's true. I saw early on in the legal field—people had assumptions based on looks, school, yacht club parents, or pedigree. I realized I had to prove myself. That is the reality for many people. I hate that, but that was my truth. I want to send a clear message to Latinas about knowing your value—not just understanding the data that companies need Latinos, but also what we bring because of who we are: loyalty, social skills, all of which translate to better outcomes. We need awareness, education, and role models to show that.

I have a last question. What is a playbook you have now that you'd like to share with our audience?

That's so interesting—the key moments that pushed me forward are never pleasant, always a challenge. Doing what you love doesn't mean it's easy.

Buy some books first. Experiment. I just bought one on AI. Take courses—LinkedIn Learning offers great ones on AI, whether for your team or personally. I've taken certifications. Going into niche areas is key—if you want to be indispensable, learn niche areas. AI is still new for many, so it's a level playing field. How often are you presented with a field at its early stages? That's opportunity.

If you haven't changed that focus, you're behind. It's fascinating. You're not late, but we will be if we don't get on. There's a book by Geoffrey Moore called 'Catching the Wave' about Blockbuster turning down Netflix. Companies are at an inflection point with fear. I'm launching research that shows 78% of respondents are afraid of AI and want to slow down. Jobs will be replaced, but we need to reskill people. For Latinas, it's about soft skills—the caring, subjectivity—because you can't replicate that. Also, we're entrepreneurial. Start reskilling yourself.

No, I was already practicing law for a few years on the partnership track, killing myself. What advice would I give that mother of two? Don't be so hung up on what people think. The race is only with yourself.

Thank you. Thank you for what you're doing—it's pretty phenomenal. I appreciate it.