I like where I work, overall. I respect and like the CEO of my company, and I have almost no problems with any of my co-workers. Other than the typically dim-witted and short-sighted middle-managers, I really couldn’t pick a better bunch of people to work with… which is why some of this bothers me so much.
This month marks my fourth year at this company; an internet company which primarily serves the automotive industry. The first two years were great – I nearly doubled my salary thanks to several raises, and I went from a position in our Production department to a more challenging (and satisfying) position as a Designer. The company quadrupled its employees in that time, moved into a new building, and expanded its clientele and its product offerings. Things were better than good, they were bloody great.
About a year and a half ago, the company announced its first layoffs… a lot of them. Coupled with that, those who remained all took a pay cut. Several people I knew pretty well were laid off, people who I respected, talented people who were good workers. Many of them had been there almost as long as I had. I remember telling my wife, after it had happened, that I felt like I had dodged a bullet, but that dodging it meant that it hit my friend. I didn’t even know how I dodged it. I didn’t like the feeling I was left with, even though I was glad to still have a job.
There have been other, smaller, layoffs since. A few people here, a few people there. Sometimes people I knew, usually not. The climate of the company changed that day, from a fun place to work to a “corporate” office.
Then, just over two months ago, I’m taken into a room by my bosses and told that my position in Design had been eliminated. The bottom dropped out of my stomach dropped out as I realized what they were saying: I was out of a job. Sort of. It wasn’t a performance issue, it was an issue of too little new business coming in and me being the most expendable member of the team. It was in issue of headcount. I could even agree with it, framed that way. <y jobs on the team were always sort of on the fringe of the mainstream work. Turns out, however, that nobody there wanted to lose me, even if my position was gone. Even the CEO was asking after me (I told you I liked him). They were able to offer me a new position, doing essentially what I used to do when I first worked there, with only a minor cut in pay. Or I could leave the company with a substantial severance package. Having watched many of my friends search fruitlessly for jobs for several months, I decided not to try my luck in the unstable job market and took the position. Slightly wounded, but still standing.
A couple weeks later, in one of the most short-sighted decisions I’ve ever seen there, two other Designers were let go. They were both more talented and more critical than I was. Their loss affects the department, the company, and the pool of available talent at our little company. And worse, they were friends of mine. Another bullet narrowly dodged.
My new position is supposed to be one of the most secure in the company… we’ll always need people to maintain websites, right? Think again. Today, along with several others throughout the company, one of my new co-workers, the one who sits in the cubicle right across from mine, was laid off. Despite the fact that I was by far the newest in the department, he was let go and at the end of the day, I remain. I’m still not sure how that happened. I looked over his cubicle (most of his stuff still arrayed over the sesk and walls), and my heart was breaking. He has kids like I do. He was a good worker. Another shot fired, somehow missing me, somehow hitting someone else.
I hate this. I’m glad I still have a job, especially in this job market and economy, but I hate this. I hate seeing hardworking friends and colleagues driven out of work, just because the company can’t afford to keep them employed any more. I hate hearing, over and over, “This time it’s over,” and “That’s the last of it,” when there’s always more on the horizon. I hate the fucking internet companies that squandered their money on stupid ideas, and wrecked the market for good companies with good leadership; companies that shouldn’t just be surviving, but thriving. I hate Enron and WorldCom for tanking consumer trust. I hate seeing empty desks where people I know used to sit, I hate trying to call or e-mail someone only to find out they were let go weeks ago. I hate the secretive, underhanded way that layoffs tend to happen, with no warning and no communication as to why. I still feel that this company is going to be one of the ones that survives the internet bubble, but at a terrible cost.
I hate feeling like I’m in World War I, waiting in a trench as a hailstorm of bullets flies overhead and takes out my fellows all around me. I can’t help but feel that, if bullets keep flying, there’s going to be a time when all my luck runs out and I’ll be fatally hit. Selfishly, I hate that feeling.
Not much of a rant, I know… more of a lament for the early days of my time at this company, before the bullets started to fly.
