Exit Day

After my second layoff over ten years ago, I began writing a book about being laid off twice in 15 months. A few publishers looked at it; no one wanted it, but I kept it anyway. I have started re-writing the book including the vastly different experience of my third lay off last November. I was able to find better employment after the first two layoffs within a couple of months. Now, more than six months removed from a full time job, the struggle is becoming interesting. Will it be a descent into poverty? Will something come my way soon? I do not know, but I do know that I have never experienced like this in my past.

Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of the book which will detail each of my experiences being let go from companies where I had excelled:

My bicycling vacation in northern California was scheduled the week that the final plans about the new and improved department were to be made. This trip had been planned for months. Melanie told me that I should consider that the announcements would be made the week I was absent, but I refused to cancel my trip. The situation was out of my control. Upper management had made their decisions.

I left for northern California and was cycling through the Redwoods in the rain when my coworkers had been herded into a conference room and fired. On the last night of my vacation, I called my husband from the San Francisco airport, as I had a red eye flight to Nashville, and I wanted to tell him when to pick me up at the airport.

I asked him if he had heard from any of my coworkers, and he replied, “Let’s don’t talk about that now.”

“Yes, I want to hear about it,” I begged.

He told me that I did not get one of the new positions, and mentioned that I would have a job for a while. I still was unsure if I had a job or not.

I was so angry when I hung up the phone that I never slept on the overnight flight to Chicago. Before boarding, I ordered a frozen yogurt from a kiosk and ate my frustration away. I felt betrayed after nineteen years of employment.

When I arrived home, I called Carla, who told me that I had lost my job. Chuck presided over the terminations with the human resource agent and two other vice presidents of marketing, who refused to look at any of their employees, when they had been called into a conference room meeting. Carla spoke about how humiliating it was to be group fired. Many, if not most, of the employees in the room had been long term employees of the company.

Kim, a graphics supervisor, attended the meeting by accident. She was being retained in the new organization, but no one said anything to her until the next day. She left the meeting thinking that she had been laid off along with the ten people she supervised and so told her husband.

Carla explained that we were permitted to stay in the office to conclude any projects or to look for jobs until the end of November.

She told me that Chuck seemed to enjoy the event. We learned that he had been hired previously by other companies to reorganize.

After the group left the conference room, the copywriter who had spoken up earlier in a meeting said loudly, “Gary lied to us.” Suddenly she was the hero—the little person who had the guts to ask the right question. Since she had just had surgery, she was retained for a few months in another department.

A coworker in a different department in the company who knew all of us confronted the CEO about his statement to us about not losing our jobs. He said that he felt bad about that. So did the rest of us.

After my vacation and the group layoff, I arrived at work the following Monday, which was my nineteenth anniversary with the company. Since I always arrived early, only one of the marketing vice presidents was in—Bill, who I had reported to for years. I walked into Bill’s office and told him that I had heard from Carla that I would be terminated at the end of November. Was this true?

Bill looked uncomfortable and couldn’t look at me directly. His head kept rolling around like a bobble head doll. I tried my best to make him feel bad, and I let him know how stressful a layoff would be on John and me. I explained to him the stresses my husband’s previous layoffs had had on the marriage.

I told him that as an employee of nineteen years and a manager, I didn’t appreciate hearing about my layoff through the grapevine. I felt that I should have been told privately.

When I returned to my office, the human resource agent was there to hand me my severance package. I noticed that the paper was dated prior to my vacation and my “interview” for a new position.

The office atmosphere was strained. Most of us had been laid off; a handful of employees had been offered new jobs that were promotions for them. Tension was everywhere. I noticed that very few “ins,” the name we gave to those who kept jobs, could look or speak to us. Only one “in” told me that she was sorry I lost my job.

Those of us who lost our jobs became a tight pack. Some of us, like the publication managers and the art directors, who had notoriously warred with each other, became close friends.

We started applying for the same open jobs in the community and called the same sources looking for employment information.

Since we were still on the company payroll, we would receive notices about company events. A week after I learned that I would be fired, I received a letter from the CEO and the Chairman of the Board. The letter began by discussing change, and I assumed that it was a thank you for my years of service and/or apology for the termination. The letter was a solicitation for the United Way, to which I had gladly contributed in the past. I was being asked by senior management to give at least $500 or more this year. I was angry at this insensitive request, since I had just lost my income.

I complained to Greg, marketing vice president in charge of community relations, that I had lost my job, and now the company wanted me to give money to a charity in their name. He had no problem with the solicitation, and said that those of us who had lost their jobs could at least give $5. I further complained that this letter was asking me to give $500 or $1000; the letter was not asking me to give $5.

I also complained to Bill, the bobble-headed boss, who acknowledged me quickly, chuckled and walked away.

Since the letter had invited me to a meeting, which I chose not to attend, I received a phone call from an unsuspecting clerk who asked me why I didn’t attend the meeting. As nicely as I could since I was angry at the call, I explained that I had lost my job and did not want to pledge money on behalf of the company that laid me off.

The solicitation for this great charity did not end. I would receive another call that reminded me of a make up meeting, and yet another call that reminded me that my pledge card had not been received.

The company eliminated my position but persisted in harassing me to make a charitable donation. Carla complained that she might have to be a recipient of the United Way; why am I being solicited to give, she asked?

Finally, times were assigned for our exit interviews. Mine was for 8 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving. I could come in, sign, then leave for my new life.

After the assignments for exit interviews had been made, I heard through the office grapevine that we would be terminated a week earlier. I ran into the personnel agent in the hallway, told her this, noticed her disgust, and asked if we would be paid our original severance agreement, although we were leaving a week early. I was paid the original amount, plus another seven days. Who knows why? I just took the money and exited.

The human resources division assigned us new times for exiting. Mine was scheduled at the same time as a job interview I had managed to obtain, so I rescheduled. Three human resource agents signed the papers of the twenty-five people leaving, so that we could all be terminated prior to lunch.

I walked into my interview and noticed a witness present. I asked the human resource agent if he hated this part of his job, but he just shrugged. He also hired people, too, he reminded me.

Fifteen months later, after my second layoff, I ran into this human resource employee at an out placement support group. The company had dumped him after twenty-five years of employment. We had a good laugh together. The outplacement support group laughed as I announced my second time around with the group and mentioned that the person who terminated me the first time around was sitting on the front row.

After I learned my rights, I signed several papers. The exit interview was conducted like a house closing. I asked for a copy of my personnel file, since I wanted copies of my glowing performance reviews. My request was refused, as the files were company property. All I remember is that I kept signing papers. One paper said that I would lose my severance money if I sued the company.

I met Bill in the hallway before I left and tried to make him feel bad one last time. “I really wish that it did not have to end this way,” I told him. He replied that it was strictly a business decision, and repeated what he had told me earlier that my job performance had been excellent. It wasn’t me they were laying off. It was the position. It was only business. I would hear this two more times in the next 11 years.

The laid off group met for lunch which was paid for by one of our printers. Melanie had not lost her job, but she crashed our party and took offense when Carla accused Bill of doing nothing to save our jobs.

Melanie told us that Bill had laid awake nights worrying about us losing our jobs, and that she felt sorry for him. “I don’t feel sorry for him,” I retorted. “He still has a job, and I don’t.”
Carla kept berating his doing nothing to save us, but I whispered to her to drop it because it didn’t matter now. I knew that he would get laid off one day, but he received a golden parachute a few years later when the company went bankrupt.

One thing that was missing during the termination process for those years of employment was a congratulatory “Thank you for a job well done” from the employer. I remembered the many times I worked with a migraine headache or other illness, because I used few of my sick days. I had surgery the year before and came back early. I often came in to the office in the dark early morning hours and left in the dark evening hours.

There were no thanks, no appreciation—just a sign this paper; now sign this paper; now you are finished.

I drove home from the lunch listening to Electric Light Orchestra’s “It’s Over” on my car CD player.