Note: I will not mention my former employer by name, but many of you know where I worked until last Thursday morning. You likely also know that I would have sung their praises until about a year ago. I wanted to do this on LinkedIn, but I do have to find another job, after all.

Late last year, I wrote about the 40th anniversary of Dead Kennedys’ masterpiece Frankenchrist for PopMatters, and I mentioned how the opening track “Soup is Good Food”, perfectly captures the ruthlessness of corporate life. Now that the possibility of AI-related layoffs is coming for college-educated workers, a new chill has been sent down the spine of a different branch of the workforce. My termination wasn’t about AI doing my job, but in part, it was about not adopting it as fully as some of my colleagues.

The first time I was let go from a job, I was devastated. My sense of self was all tied up in work. I hadn’t failed at anything of this magnitude. It shook me to my core. In addition to the financial realities, I was dealing with the psychological fallout. I thought I was safe from failing at work, but no one is. There are too many factors outside of our control for us to be safe, no matter how hard we work, no matter which asses we kiss. There can always be a reason to get rid of someone.

This past Thursday morning, I was asked to get on a call with my supervisor and his supervisor. Thrown in the cold like a piece of trash. I spent nearly five years there, taking new hire training from an outdated, disorganized mess to an industry award-winning experience that still produced great customer care agents who outperform performance targets right out of the gate. But this was not enough to save my job.

The core of what I do is to make connections between people, to get teams from dysfunctional to at least functional. To people who don’t do what I do, it’s black box. Ideas go in, some magic happens, and learning is shat out the other end. Partnership with people who don’t do what I do is what I need to do my job effectively, and whether they realize it or not, so do my partners and the rest of the company.

This was something that was once valued, but that gradually went by the wayside, and on every meeting it became more and more clear. I was even told to focus less on that part of my skills and just to focus on pushing out more training.

It feels like a cliche to say, “I have people skills,” but only because those of us in functional workplaces take it for granted. While the company decided to devalue that type of acumen, it is not because they have mastered the art of collaboration. It is because they have decided that they don’t care, and if I learned anything about

They shut off my computer right after the Zoom call that communicated my fate, just in case I got any big ideas about downloading any of the work I did for them to include in a portfolio. Joke’s on them, as I had already taken care of that weeks ago, when I started to suspect that I wasn’t going to get a positive annual performance review. I also punched up my resume, created a Canva site to showcase my work, and quietly started looking.

My supervisor was on the verge of tears, performative or not. I couldn’t tell whether he was legitimately upset or making the moment about himself. With him, either is entirely possible. My Associate Director/his supervisor sat on the call on mute, lingering like The Emperor silently backing Darth Vader.

I simply waited for him to finish while texting my partner and best friend to tell them I was being fired. I scarcely looked up from my phone. Then, he said “I’m sure this is hard news and that you have questions.”

Not really. I asked if I would receive severance pay. The answer was no, and then Vader started to chime in with a half-assed, cue-card-sounding message. I simply said, “I don’t need that. If there’s no severance, there’s nothing more to talk about,” cutting her off in mid-sentence.

This is a company that prides itself on handling emotionally challenging moments with grace and individualized care, a company that racks up cool awards like One of the Most Iconic Brands, One of the Most Trusted Brands, and Best Customer Service. You have surely seen examples of this in your social media accounts. I’m here to tell you that only applies if you are an external customer. Like every other corporate behemoth, this is all performative. The internal culture has been on the decline for a while now. There was a time when I would have encouraged anyone to apply there. As a matter of fact, I referred a colleague from my last job to come join me. But that was years ago.

I’d worked hard to establish a good rapport with my new supervisor since last September, taking all the advice I was given at my annual performance review and applying it in a manner that I foolishly thought was effective, but when they want you gone, there’s always something.

Timed with the end of my call was an email with a printer label to hurry up and send back my laptop. Fine. Understandable. And I had an inkling, so I had been corralling some of my greatest hits already.

Soon after, it started to get comical. The following morning, I received a “farewell from [redacted]” email, reminding me to send back that laptop and that my health coverage would end at the end of the month. Later that day, they had the audacity to send me an exit interview survey.

“How’d we do firing you?”

After laughing out loud, and sharing with the one person I liked on the team, I proceeded to let it all fly. I said the things I’d been to frustrated to say out loud. There was no reason for me to hold back. I had already dropped all of them from my LinkedIn and I never let work people join my personal social networks. Nothing left to lose.

I told them that the level of disorganization on the team was so severe that it would make a great essay question on an exam that covered how to analyze a directionless, underperforming team. I mentioned how sad it was that will all the intelligent people in the department, we couldn’t even solve basic Business 101 issues like communication and teamwork. I mentioned that when my training redesign won that prestigious award, which I learned about via an all-company email, not a sincere thanks, I had to ask THEM if it was the training I worked on. Begging for formal recognition feels gross.

And I know, Don Draper, “That’s what the money’s for,” but when one person works on something that wins an award, what is the thing to do? There was no extra money, either, for the record.

Twenty years ago, I studied organizational culture and leadership, inspired by the poor experiences I’d had at work, with the idea that companies aspired to be their best through people, that many didn’t do better because they didn’t know better.

Work has trained us to do what’s best for The Company, not for us. We work extra hours. We provide notice when we are leaving a job so The Company won't suffer. We take what they give in exchange for our minds and bodies.

Meanwhile, The Company eventually treats us like we are a longtime, no longer appreciated companion. The Company is the guy in that famous meme checking out someone else while his partner looks on in disgust. We are good for a few years if we are lucky. Then we must go find a new Company to impress. Careers are pitched as our own, as our “callings,” but there’s no desire to keep an employee for decades, let them grow. We are drained of our usefulness and then discarded. When we are lucky, we get to do it all over again someplace else. This isn’t exactly my calling. This is how I make a living and how I provide for my children.

It’s hard to dig deep, to go find another place to be exploited for a few years, then another and then another after that, making rich people richer for a few years and then switching rich people again. It’s hard to work up enthusiasm for the kinds of opportunities out there, to act like this company is the one I’ve had my eye on, to act like this is the opportunity of a lifetime for me. But I will find it. My kids are depending on me.

Work cannot be the meaning of our existence. It must come from someplace else. But it can’t mean nothing, and that’s the hard part. Companies espouse these “we’re a family” or “our customers are our family” messages and then say, “Don’t take it personal” when you are let go.