It was a sunny Thursday. When my morning alarm went off, I felt I could’ve easily had another hour of sleep—if I just let myself do so. I realized that I had actually slept through the night, a miracle in itself, after experiencing several nights in a row of nightmare-fuelled insomnia.

Basking in the warmth of the restorative sleep, I reflected on the last time I couldn’t get enough of that blissful slumber. It was the day I learned about my dad’s passing. My body wanted to bank as much rest as possible considering that this glorious sleep would have to sustain me for days.

But even though I would’ve loved nothing more than to just lay there and think, I had to switch gears and mentally prepare for the busy day ahead of me. I was thinking of the three-hour drive to Toronto waiting for me after work so that I could attend a goodbye lunch for my boss the following day. I had to pack and follow up with a friend whom I planned to visit on Saturday. Oh, and I needed to brief the contractor who was coming back to finish up a few things around the house. And I figured should also give some thought to that exploratory job interview I had scheduled later in the afternoon. Maybe I would do that my lunch break.

Before heading to the shower, I checked email on my phone and saw a notification that my HubSpot access had been revoked the night before—only to be restored several hours later. Strange, I thought. Then I realized it was already December 1, a new month. Perhaps that’s their schedule for doing access reviews or upgrades?

There was also a meeting invitation  from the new CRO in my inbox. Makes sense, I thought, considering that just the day before she named my colleague our interim director following my boss’ departure. Since my colleague is now my de facto boss, it would be good for the CRO to brief me about her vision for the department which I would pass along to my team.

Calm Before the Storm

When I sat down at my desk that morning, I immediately threw myself into work. With great pleasure I signed the offer letter for one of my teammates. After a year of being part-time, this person was finally receiving a full-time position. If we were already performing miracles at four and a half people, imagine what we could accomplish with five!

Riding on the crest of the wave of this thought, my edits were precise like a laser beam and my inner editor was pleased with the final result. My good mood continued during a one-on-one with a team member, in which we solved a structural issue with one of his content pieces and celebrated with yet another great conversation about movies. After that I took a short break to glance at my social media.

The first thing that popped up on LinkedIn was a post from our most cheerful and upbeat HR person, Emily. She announced that she had just been laid off earlier that morning and was notifying her network of being open to work.

Shocked, I huddled with another of my teammates and encouraged them to boost Emily’s post. We chatted for a few minutes and spoke about the impact Emily had on both of us. In unison we agreed that it was a big mistake to let go of Emily, as she’d been a symbol of the company’s heart and soul. Before we parted I mentioned my meeting with the CRO, scheduled before lunch. Following a hunch, I expressed my thoughts on the matter. It was too coincidental, but my teammate was certain that I spent too much time in my own head. I wasn’t so sure she was right, but didn’t fight the idea that the meeting was about our restructure.

Nine Minutes

At 11:29am I clicked on the meeting link included in the CRO’s invite. I know better than to be late to a meeting with a C-suite, so as the clock turned 11:30am, I adjusted myself to be centred on camera. The CRO had a lot of private meetings that day–I knew because I checked–which could justify why she didn’t immediately join. A full minute later, at 11:31am, the characteristic sound announcing a person joining Google Meet went on. Time to smile.

And then a second chime went off, announcing the arrival of another person. The smile on my face froze.

On screen, I was sandwiched between a very uncomfortable looking CRO and our department’s HR lead, looking equally uneasy. Before they opened their mouths, I knew what kind of a meeting it would be. But I didn’t say a word and let them deliver the speech.

Looking everywhere  around her computer but at the camera, the CRO started off by saying that the company had set overly ambitious revenue goals for the year and had expanded their staffing levels based on those goals. Unfortunately, they were unable to achieve those goals, leaving the company in an economically vulnerable position, she continued. As a result, to balance the books they would have to trim the company’s headcount to ensure that it’s better aligned with the newly revised revenue goals and the brand new operational structure being put in place to support them.

Therefore, she regrets to inform me that my position has been eliminated in the restructuring; thus my employment with the company is being terminated. She assured me that this had nothing to do with my performance: it’s strictly a business decision.

Before she spoke about termination, I texted my husband: “I’m fired.” I heard him rushing down the stairs just a few moments later. The contractor working in the adjacent room took his sudden arrival as an invitation to chat and the two began talking as I sat through the remainder of this meeting on the other side of the door. Show me which side of the door you’re on and I will tell you what kind of a day you’re having.

Then the HR lead spoke and in broad strokes described the terms of my termination and severance. My work with the company stops right now. As soon as the meeting is over, I will lose all access to my files and emails. Later that day or the following day, I will receive a copy of the termination letter to my personal email, which I will have to sign and return by a set date for the severance package to take effect.

When she was talking, I Slacked a friend who introduced me to this company telling him that I was being fired right that minute. “I’m sorry. You’re not the only one,” he responded. A heads up would have been nice, I thought, but didn’t say—or type—it.

Back to the CRO. She said she’d be happy to put me in contact with people in her network to help find me a new job. The HR lead seconded that, saying they will do everything in their power to provide me with references, letters of recommendation or anything else that could assist me in my job search. It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.

Still sitting there with my Mona Lisa smile and thinking how all of a sudden my afternoon interview went from being in the “casually browsing” to “actively looking” category, I spoke for the first time.

“Is the reason for me parting with the company stated on the termination letter?” I asked, “Because it’s hard for me to reconcile that, just 24 hours ago, I’d received a glowing performance appraisal from my manager and yet somehow I’m now being dismissed.” No, there won’t be as the reason is that the company is restructuring, they told me. This decision has nothing to do with my performance, they repeated. It’s not personal, it’s business. Yes, I heard you the first time.

My final question was to know whether I will have a chance to tell my team–or whatever’s left of it–of my departure? Sadly, I won’t have that option, the CRO and the HR lead said. But my team is safe, they assured me. I felt relieved upon hearing this.

With no more questions from me and nothing more to say on their end, the meeting was adjourned. I looked at the clock. Of the 15 minutes that had been allocated for me, we wrapped it up in less than nine.

I suppose there’s no need or desire for small talk when there are so many more termination notices to deliver. So ladies, catch a breath, have a sip of water, compose yourselves and start from the top. Before  the day is done you’ll know the script by heart. If you have one, that is.

The Big Purge

“Call me,” I sent via Slack to the team member I huddled with about Emily right before I received my own news. The phone rang immediately and the call consisted mostly of awkward silence. What do they say when learning that their manager had just been sacked, especially when, just nine minutes ago, they were confident that the meeting was about restructuring? What do you say when you just learned that you’re no longer their manager or leading a team that you’ve personally recruited and built?

My now former teammate volunteered to set up a meeting with all five of us so that I could personally deliver the news to everyone. She sent an invite to my personal email. We were to meet at 12:30pm, as I needed to talk to my husband, who was wearing holes in the floor in front of my office door from constant pacing.

I relayed to him the information received from the CRO and HR lead. Upon reflection, the comment from my friend “you’re not the only one,” Emily’s post, messages I had seen on Slack of other people concerned about their restricted access to HubSpot and the abundance of short, private meetings on the C-suite calendars for that day, it became obvious that my hunch was right all along: the company was in the midst of a mass layoff.  

Whether you call it layoffs, a purge, or a blood bath, mass termination is probably one of the most stressful events you can experience in the workplace. We had no idea how many of us would ultimately lose their jobs that Thursday. We suspected it would be a substantial number though, based on the volume of those 15-minute meetings on the Execs’ calendars.

For obvious reasons, a mass layoff affects those who are losing their jobs—our source of income and, for many in the era of working from home, daily dose of social contact are suddenly gone. But the shock of a mass termination extends beyond the terminated employees and negatively impacts those left behind. If you think “the ones still standing” feel grateful for not getting the boot and having the job, think again. Survivor’s guilt, a feeling triggered by surviving life-threatening situations, is real and has profound effect on people’s mental health, effecting their performance. To watch their colleagues getting called to meet with a C-level and then just disappearing from the company’s communications tools can trigger a lot of conflicting emotions and for some, a fight or flight response. The severity of it depends on the way the layoffs were handled.

I knew my team would be in for a bumpy ride for a while so I was determined to reassure them that I’d be fine. In fact, as much as my heart was breaking for my blindsided former co-workers and shocked team members, I couldn’t help but notice that, for me, it was actually a blessing in disguise. I was looking for a way out after feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the direction the new management was leading the company towards, hence scheduling that job interview.

Yes, I am not pleased by being let go via Google Meet in less than 10 minutes. But can I really be upset about getting December off? When you’re struggling to balance work, home renovations and remotely managing the care of your sick parent on another continent, getting the gift of time from a company is the best Christmas present you can imagine.

For me, personally, this news came with a silver lining—and I needed my team to know that.

The Last Kingdom (meeting)

Warned by the HR lead that I would shortly lose access to the work computer, I had to join the emergency team meeting via my iPad, which turned out to be a gymnastics challenge: holding up an iPad while trying to maintain my composure AND reassure my team.

Seeing the members of my team coming on screen one by one was tough. I had a difficult time holding back tears when I watched the Witch of Words, Page of Prose, Knight of Nuance and Earl of Words join the call. It reminded me of the first interviews I had with each of them: the spark, dedication, ideals and passion they showed far exceeded my hopes in the team I was building. In the 12 months the Kingdom of Content was in operation, we’ve been through a lot and developed a very close bond.

When everyone was present, I shared the news of my unexpected departure. I was met with three deer in the headlights looks (the organizer of this meeting obviously knew what was going on) painfully painted on the friendly faces. Not usually lost for words with this group, I struggled to find the proper way to convey that, from now on, they’re on their own.

I told them that, based on the words of the CRO and HR lead, I’m the only one from our team losing her job. Even though their jobs had been deemed safe for now, the Kingdom of Content will most likely be a thing of the past, with the untimely departure of the Countess of Content and a change in roles for some of them.

And because the company was doing a mass layoff, I advised them to actively start looking for new jobs.  The company post-purge won’t be the same one that they’d joined. I told them they could always count on me for letters of recommendation or references, or just a chat. I know I said that.

But I wanted to say much more, as they were my people, my tribe, my fellow Royals. Sincere I was, eloquent not so much. And with a big blob of emotions stuck in my throat I probably said a bunch of platitudes. That’s why I’m putting it here, so it’s in the open.

I feel privileged and honoured having a chance to work with each and every one of them. I don’t know if they realize how incredibly talented they are, with amazingly strong writing skills that never failed to impress me. (In fact, this was the number one skill I was looking for in a candidate, as I know a strong writer can adapt to a new environment or industry very quickly. Time and time again, they’ve proven me right!)

My team bought into my vision of creating an effective content engine and simply ran with it. They didn’t seem offput by my strong editorial bias in my approach to content and marketing. One can argue that they actually embraced it. As a team, they put their talents and strengths together, glued them tight with friendly banter and laughter and built the Kingdom of Content known for its word-fueled greatness.

Aarti, Fredsen, Keri and Sarah, I hope you know how much I loved working with you. You’re a very talented bunch and I expect great things from you, please don’t let me down. I’ve learned so much from each and every one of you, and I hope that our professional paths will cross again.

Setting Sun

After saying our tearful goodbyes–and making plans to see three of them in person the following day during that goodbye lunch–I put the iPad down and closed the doors to my home office.

In the hallway, my husband handed me a coat and led us outside for a walk. We walked and talked all the way to the park and back, then through the neighbourhood, appreciating the abundance of free time I suddenly had.

It was a beautiful, sunny early Thursday afternoon, relatively warm for the first day of December. Thursdays are good days, I heard my dad’s voice say in my head. He knew. Thursday was his favorite day.