The Unemployed Life

Happy Holidays! Here’s Your Pinkslip

I’m sorry to have to do this but, as we’ve lost a third of our client base and assets have plummeted, we must reduce costs and have decided to let you go. We no longer need three of you in investor relations.  I know you have been here the longest, but I think Girl #2 and Guy #3 have more room to grow in the company (read:  there is no upward mobility and we expect that you will leave us before they do).  We appreciate your contributions and want you to know that you can come to us for recommendations for future employers.

First, the anger surges. WHAT? You made me come back from my holiday vacation in Tahiti for this? To work for two days and three hours? To have my “position eliminated” (of course we don’t say fired) on Christmas Eve?

Then, denial and bitterness. But wait! I have been here for three years not eight to ten months like my ‘peers’. I could do both of their jobs combined! For Christ sake, Girl #2 can barely see her computer screen over those fake b**bs. And I’ve never even heard of that no-name school in Vermont where Guy #3 studied. Don’t you know that I was the valedictorian of my class; that I volunteer to help underprivileged youth; that I had perfect SAT scores; that I received a full scholarship to a top university based on my academic merit? You must, because I clearly outlined it for you on my resume in Times New Roman 11 point font, single spaced, of course.

So what now? Do I just pack my stuff and leave without a farewell to my clients and consultants? But not so fast. Rich Investor #25 is expecting me to call him to discuss the drivers of year-end performance later today and I need to finish reworking the parameters on that report for Institution #8. They’ll come around, I tell myself. They are obviously making a huge mistake and will beg for me to come back once this place crumbles in my absence.

Gradually, the spiteful and self-important thoughts passed. Without this protection, I was left with a potent mix of fear, inadequacy, uncertainty and sadness.  In a family run private equity firm of fifteen employees, you lapse into a sense of security, perhaps false, and become more than merely coworkers. I was going to miss my friends here (are we still Facebook buddies since I’m no longer part of the team?)  And I was stupefied that the very people who so warmly embraced me three years ago could so easily discard me now. Maybe I should have seen it coming as the cushy perks evaporated one by one. First they stopped ordering the organic sandwiches for lunch; next went the Kombucha and Vitamin Water, then the company-sponsored sessions with the personal trainer were taken away. But the cuts didn’t stop at these frivolities: Apparently the list included smoked turkey on wheat, flavored beverages, Tracy the trainer. And me.

I gathered my belongings, removed my personal folders from my computer, and made my hurried round of good-byes to coworkers. No time was wasted – my keycard had already been deactivated and I could hardly jot a farewell email to a few favorite clients.

“Jane, your taxi is downstairs.”

Tags: layoff, pinkslip