This is an image a typeface I believe was created in 2019 by Sergei Gurov.
Very recently, I was laid off for the second time in my career. Both times, the only explanation I received was that it was “not because of performance.”
When I started this job about a year and a half ago, I made a decision to track my behavior, habits, and work. I wanted to improve. I wanted to contribute more. I tried to demonstrate a broader skill set than the title I was hired under suggested. I pushed myself to overperform when I could. I volunteered to help other teams. My goal was to become someone the company would see as invaluable.
In the end, none of that mattered. When everything was said and done, I was just a row in an Excel file that eventually got deleted.
Months earlier, one night after work hours, a message popped up in Teams from an upper-level lead. It sounded urgent. They needed help with a project. I only knew of this person—I had never met them, and I wasn’t even sure they knew I existed. As I watched the chat, other coworkers either didn’t respond or offered comments that didn’t really help the situation.
So I stepped in.
I jumped into the application and put something together as quickly as I could. The response was positive. “Life saver” was the phrase they used. They even reached out to my manager to say that I had come through and helped save the day. I was promised cookies.
I never got the cookies.
Instead, I was laid off. I went beyond the scope of my role, and my reward ended up being a payout for my unused PTO.
How do I feel about it? A lot of emotions. But no regrets.
I’ve always believed that you never know who might be watching. If you have the skills, the ability, and the drive, you should use them. The times I’ve ignored that instinct have usually put me in worse positions.
I won’t pretend this experience doesn’t make me more cautious about putting myself out there again. But if I’m being honest, knowing everything I know now, I’d probably still do the same thing.