Laid Off in a Blaze(r) of Glory

The notification pinged, a digital summons to my professional demise. I straightened my Spier and Mackey navy blazer; 100% wool, half-canvas, unlined, my sartorial shield against the corporate storm; and joined the Teams meeting. The attendees counter climbed and flashed before they vanished as two faces materialized: one from HR with practiced empathy and the other the SVP with the thousand-yard stare.

"Good morning. We have gathered you here today to inform you of a change in company priorities and subsequent changes to our organization, including the elimination of your roles," he began, the words as hollow as the look in his eyes.

I adjusted my collar. At least I was dressed for the occasion: going from employed to surviving a tech layoff.

The Day the Music Died

*Flashback: 6:03 AM*

Eyes bleary, my hand slapped on the bedside dresser searching for the phone to shut off the morning alarm. After several attempts, my motor skills finally reached the minimum level of coordination, and I thumbed the alarm off while checking overnight text messages.

My eyes and brain jolted awake with a stark broadcast from my company that hit like a quad shot espresso drink: "WFH today. Mandatory." 

My gut clenched. 

I'd seen this play before. 

A month ago, my direct report, Sameer, received the same cryptic message. "Just follow instructions," I’d advised cluelessly, unknowingly ushering him toward the unemployment line. Later that morning, his Outlook status went offline along with a multitude of others.

Including -my- manager.

Now, after thinking I dodged the mortar fire, history was serving me a cold dish of déjà vu with another salvo.

Yet, like a condemned man requesting a final meal, I proceeded with my morning ritual. Charcoal gray slacks. Crisp white oxford button down collar. The blazer.

There was some time before the mandatory (final) meeting, so I went about it like any other. Approved PTO requests and timesheets. Attended stand-ups, nodding like a sartorial robot. Thought briefly of typing up a hot issues doc to leave as a parting gift for my current manager. Never got around to it. All the while with the sword of Damocles hanging precariously above me.

The Domino Effect of Dread

Logged in.

*Ding*

The Teams ping I got from one of my direct reports, Samantha, was more of a punch to the gut than the text I received in the morning. "Got a WFH order. What should I do?"

*Damn it.*

I gave her the same response I did a month ago with Sameer, "Just follow instructions." It felt worse this time because I knew for sure what was coming. It’s one of the things I wonder if I could have handled better that day. Should have I clued her in? Not responded?

Seriously, I'd rather endure my own layoff a dozen times over than watch another teammate walk the plank. Survival guilt is very real.

At least that’s what Google search told me. Having just lived it for a month and talking closely with my directs and peers, that tracked for me personally.

The Execution (and Fleeting Peace)

Back on Teams, after the HR rep finished her script she asked, "Any questions?"

I almost chuckled. *Does this blazer make me look more employable?* But a strange sense of calm washed over me. Maybe it was my couture armor. Maybe it was knowing I was just one of many. My story wasn’t unique, just another data point in a corporations relentless churn.

More Than Just Fabric

Let’s rewind. Why dress up for a firing squad? 

For me, it was about my ritual. I had fallen into the routine of prepping my work clothes the night before. Dressing up put me in a work frame of mind. It was my shield to get myself amped for the corporate grind.

Instead of battling seven others with lances, swords, and axes to determine who had the favor of the gods trying to do the right thing, it was me and six other folks on an agile team constantly trying to meet our productivity goals while upskilling and “doing more with less.”

While trying to do the right thing.

Since the clothes were already prepared, my professional self decided he wanted to go out with head held high and some modicum of dignity. I could cite studies that suggest you perform better when you dress up but it really came down to: why not go out in some style?

It seemed like the right thing to do.

The Human Cost of "Efficiency"

It's easy to focus on the numbers, but behind each layoff is a person, a family, a life disrupted. Work life balance becomes a cruel joke when the work arm of the scale is suddenly chopped off.

My post-layoff "peace"? Fleeting. I felt the trauma of my directs who also got affected and for whom I could do nothing. The survivors who depended on me to champion their careers and now were uncertain if they would get that from the next manager up. And what would even happen to them.

Workplace survivor syndrome is real. I lived it for a time. Retained employees report productivity drops while others battle chronic anxiety wondering if they are next. And the Teams/Zoom/virtual meeting dismissal trend? Well, I guess it’s better than a bulk 6 a.m. email from leadership.

The Road Ahead: Navigating the Abyss

I don’t have any profound advice on dealing with this. I will say that when you are going through your career journey, make sure your spouse/significant other is with you for that ride, and that you agree about what can or cannot be sacrificed for each other’s career goals.

I am fortunate in the sense that my family and I have indirectly prepared for this (a post for another time). But it would be disingenuous for me to tell you to do the same things. And while it was a shock, I have taken time and decided to use this chance to rekindle a passion of mine. Writing.

So, I am starting CareerNotFound as a home for those navigating the life of the "professionally paused". Where I share stories and advice from someone who lived in the trenches that may make you laugh, may make you cry, and you'll learn a little something. I wasn't necessarily wildly talented but worked hard (probably similar to a lot of you), but I can write a little bit and am okay with where I ended up... because my family is.