The Beginning of The End

Well, I suppose I may as well jump right into it.

On May 5th, me and 699 of my coworkers were herded like cattle into a work-group area set up with a full PA system, and told that we were being laid off. Some (like myself) knew it was coming, some were completely shocked, others had predicted this ages ago. People yelled out in surprise, covered their faces with their hands, and bit their lips. I had only begun to suspect something was up when a coworker of mine called me that morning, before I had even left for work.

He spoke with a very strained, and concerned tone in his voice, one that I had literally never heard from him before. Did I know what was going on? No, actually, I didn't. But as he explained the currently unfolding events, a hard knot started to form in my stomach. He had received a phone call, asking him if there was any possible way he could come into work on his day off. No, he could not, but the call came from high up enough within our organization to cause concern. This combined with the unusual nature of the call, and he decided to give me a shout to see if I knew anything.

A quick email check yielded a very short, sparsely worded message indicating that there was to be a very important meeting today, and absolutely everyone was required to attend. In the several years I have worked for this company, there has quite literally never been such a meeting. Business must be run, regardless of what information needs to be shared within the company, so meetings are normally held in shifts. This would have to be very bad news, as good news is always shared via email. No brightly coloured graphics or fancy slogans being used in the email was another key indicator; the company is well known for their colourful email communications, and the use of even internal-only marketing slogans was often a source of humor for me and my colleagues. I would imagine, however, that most companies also market their 'brand' even to their employees these days.

The drive to work was quiet, and tense. Carpooling is normally a fun way to start the day, but today there was literally no conversation. I will absolutely admit to sitting there, tears streaming down my face, trying not to breathe too deeply to ensure I make as little noise as possible. The type of crying where you are afraid of the deep-rooted sob/sigh/gasp that can unintentionally escape during times of extreme anguish. Not just tears of stress over the idea of losing my job, losing my security and certainty in such uncertain times, but tears over being forced to leave a company I had admittedly bought in to, with emotional fervor.

Sure, over recent months, there was a growing sense of disenchantment, frustration and stress, as I often found myself personally disagreeing with new changes, or new directions we were being taken in. But as a whole, I was still clinging to the basic ideologies that the company founded itself on. I've had other jobs that were just 'jobs', but this was my first 'career', and the first company I had worked for that had a sense of fun, and uniqueness to it. If you're not sure about the differences between jobs vs careers, I would suggest that you check out Chris Rock's sketch comedy bit on this subject, it's absolutely hilarious and all too true.

During this meeting, there was standing room only with a few exceptions, and I stood staring at the ground right in front of my feet. Being fairly short, it was pointless for me to try and be able to see anything, and this was also a great way for me to avoid catching a glimpse of a shocked or upset coworker, which would probably have launched me into full out, shoulder heaving body-sobs. Instead, I was able to keep the tears mostly in check, forming a sort of meniscus effect, with only the occasional tear streaming down my cheek. Breathe in, breathe out, wait for the meeting to be over, so that we can file out of the room and all make a beeline for the bathroom.

Once the meeting was over, we were all assigned to a different area of the building, on different floors, where our direct managers would speak to us in a bit more detail. From there, we were directed to yet another area of the building, where we would collect our severance packages, lined out for us in alphabetical order. The fact that upon being hired by the company, we received coloured folders containing information such as salary, benefits, and contracts, and the fact that we were now receiving our severance information in an identical such folder, was not a detail that was lost on me.

Once we received our severence packages, we were instructed to go home. In fact, when I went to my desk, to retrieve my purse and cellphone charger, I was confronted and told in a friendly, yet firm way, that I should be leaving, and now. Security had been more than tripled in the building for the day, and they stood around, quiet and watchful, with a very overwhelming and intimidating presence. We were not to go to our desks, not to loiter about, and questioned when moving from one space to the other, regarding our intent. It was a very disconcerting feeling, being given such bad news, and then being treated in such a way that was such a drastic depart from our normal daily office atmosphere.

So we did what any well-adjusted, and emotionally mature adult would do. We went to a nearby pub and got hammered. I was drunk out of my mind by 4pm, and mostly sober by 9. We made jokes, hooted and hollered, and generaly sat around in absolute shock. One of the funniest moments of the evening came, when the waitstaff responded to the high volume of newly-laid off patrons by prominently placing a 'Help Wanted' sign at the front desk.

We moved from the pub to a friends house, watched the hockey game, and then ambled home. I have been going through what could probably be best described as the same steps of grieving. Shock, disbelief, depression, anger, numbness, and confusion have all reigned supreme these past few days. Yesterday, I came home from work, and just sat on the floor in front of our dining room table for what felt like hours, staring at the grain of our hardwood, crying.

I'm starting to do much better, and am slowly starting to feel some hope, see the positive side of all of this. But it's obviously a process, and I sometimes find myself digressing again in terms of emotions.

This blog is intended to document what I'm thinking and feeling throughout this journey, and how I handle it moving forward. I've not currently named the company in question, nor have I identified myself, but I imagine that if anyone does stumble across this blog they may easily deduce who I am or who I worked for. I haven't decided if I will attempt anonymity or not, that will be something I determine as things move forward. I want to be certain to not jeopardize my severance package, and while my name is not on this blog I will choose to still refrain from comments that may do so. Most people that think the internet is entirely anonymous are either exceptionally naive, or taking far too many precautions and going to much further lengths than I am willing to go to for an emotional outlet.

We have been told that we are to consider things 'business as usual' and most of us have at least a month and a half before our final day of work. This is a concept that everyone is struggling with. To remain emotionally entangled with the company during this time would result in a much more difficult healing process and end date, not to mention the fact that it could also be quite emotionally damaging. On the flip side, to become bitter and lazy during this strange adjustment period can result in our severance package being revoked, any sort of job reference being jeopardized, and loss of the pride we previously took in the job we were doing, and how well we did it (given the tools we had and the policies we had to adhere to, of course).

And there you have it - the beginning of the end.