Laid Off and Recovering

Graduating from Pepperdine University in 2006, I had a degree in public relations, four internships under my belt and a GPA in the high B range. The job market was “the worst in years” (which was nothing compared to what it would become), but I felt good. I graduated a full month prior to other schools, and I was moving from Los Angeles back to my hometown of Cincinnati. Surely, a high profile school and big city experience would culminate in landing me a job fairly quickly.

Surely.

Four months later, I had no prospects. A few applications led to interviews. Two of those companies decided not to hire for the position. Graduation money was quickly running out and my six-month grace period for student loans was quickly approaching an end. I turned to retail. All through college, I never had to work retail. There was always an internship to be had or some type of low-level office job. Now there was nothing.

After three interesting months with Toys R Us, I found out about a public relations internship with a local integrated marketing agency. That would take my internship count to five, but I didn’t care. It was a foot in the door.

I started on October 17. It was a Monday, and I’m pretty sure it was sunny. I started my $10-an-hour internship, living with my parents back in Small Town, USA. But I didn’t care, I had a job.

The journey wasn’t easy. There wasn’t an entry-level layer at the agency… meaning there were no spots for me to someday move into. After five months of waiting, negotiating and leveraging other offers, I was offered an assistant account manager position with a salary well below the market average. I jumped on it anyway. My coworkers were smart, my work was steady and enjoyable, and I believed in the philosophy of the partners.

In early 2009, I was promoted to account manager. My boss put me on one of the agency’s biggest accounts. My path was unfolding before me. Outside, the media was touting the perils of an impending recession, but what did I care? Business was good, and I was establishing a real life career.

Did I mention my new big account was in the building products category? No? It was.

Small budget cutbacks started soon after my promotion. Belt tightening here and there, but then entire projects began disappearing. Ads were pulled. The company began its own layoffs.

My immediate future dimmed a bit, but I was optimistic. This is a lull. There will be more clients and new business for our agency. I was convinced.

But the new business came to fruition less and less frequently. Other clients were facing their own cutbacks.

Then came the first round of layoffs for us – a couple of employees were cut to part-time. More than eight percent of the staff was affected. With fear and trepidation, I sat in my ever shrinking cube. I was one of the most junior people on staff. Surely I was a target. The day went by though, and I survived.

Surviving a layoff creates its own kind of monster. Layoffs are a poison to morale and barrier to effective productivity. Even in a culture where relationships were king, it seemed our leaders – too focused on trying to make it – forgot about the morale of those left behind. As work horses, we were given little information. Uncertainty clouded all three floors of our suddenly declining work force.

Soon thereafter, I was told that I was no longer needed on my big account. Our client’s budget was too small to include me, the junior gal on the team.

Meanwhile, I had a menial-sized account to keep me busy along with a couple of pro bono assignments. Feeling under valued and under utilized, I decided to increase my worth by diving into the flourishing social media trend. I would make myself an expert. One of the partners appointed me to our in-house quick-service industry expert. This was great! I’d be a resource for the agency. Business was looking up.

Along the same time, the whole agency was waiting for our looming quarterly meeting. The partners kept postponing – one week after another with vague, loose excuses for the delay.

September 18^th was marked – finally – as the day for the meeting. I came into the office, a little more casual than usual. It had been a long, draining week, and I was looking forward to the weekend, almost as much as I was the meeting. Finally, after so much silence, we would have the eerie quiet explained.

9:15 a.m. – my immediate manager briskly walks by. “Andrea, can I see you in my office for a sec?” He asks another employee to follow.

My stomach lurched. My mind started twisting and tripping over thoughts. While I quietly reminded myself, “this isn’t a big deal. Maybe there’s a new project.”

We all sat down. The look on my manager’s face confirmed my now swirling thoughts. This was my last day. He struggled for the words. He opened with a preface and then prefaced with a preface. Something about the economy, another comment about budget cutbacks, but he couldn’t say it. He didn’t have to. Just then the partner came in to his office. He said it for him.

There I was. Twenty-five and jobless. My small income disappeared without a hint of warning. For months, mounting bills had prevented me to save – well – anything.

Just then I remembered. Severance packages. That’ll get me by. I’ll have time to find a job and figure out what I want to do next. I recalled the generous severance packages that went to those in the first round of layoffs. Surely that could get me by.

“Two weeks.”

What!? No, how could that be? A new job in two weeks – not possible. What was unemployment? Could I survive on it? My lease wasn’t up for another five months. I felt ok until “two weeks.”

My coworker, now co-victim, simply said, “That isn’t a lot.”

I won’t take you through that memory (you need only watch Up in the Air), but I made it out of that office without shedding a tear. Holding on to that shred of dignity was all that I had. I walked into that company a girl, I was determined to walk out a woman.

I did a lap around the office in a daze. I wanted to say goodbye to my coworkers. My friends. So many people there had helped me define myself and my career. I wasn’t sure I’d see them again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I passed the next most junior girl in the hall. I told her what happened. She tried to act concerned, but I know her thoughts were on her own survival. I can’t blame her. I was in her position just a few short months ago.

I called my boyfriend. He worked just blocks away. With effort, I got out the words. “They just laid me off.”

Laid me off, laid me off. The words seemed to echo in the receiver. My uncles had been laid off before, but they always knew they’d go back to work in a few weeks or months. It was more of a seasonal thing. This wasn’t seasonal. It wasn’t temporary. The finality of it all was as real as this recession finally was to me. Now it was personal. I was a statistic – a drop in the bucket that was already full of so many others.

I began laying out my steps. I knew this journey wasn’t going to be a short one, and I wanted to do what I could to end it as soon as possible. Business cards. I needed business cards. And a Web site. I’d been learning the ins and outs of social media – I’d need an online presence to support that expertise. Resume updates were critical now. I had to get my portfolio together. Defer my loans? No, not yet. Apply for unemployment. What do I do with my 401k? I barely even knew what was happening to the money I was putting into it. Disappearing the second it touched the account for all I knew. The list seemed to go on. A lot of work for something I didn’t ask for.

In the weeks to come, I kept busy. I networked. There were coffee dates and lunch meetings. Staying home wasn’t an option. I was racing against the clock. As time wore on, people would move on and forget, and I knew I needed their help to land my next job. In this economy, you have to know someone.

There were people offering advice and trying to help me see the bright side. “What a great opportunity to figure out what you want to do.” And “just enjoy the time. Sleep in and pamper yourself.”

All well and fine suggestions assuming I had a semblance of savings. I had a credit card.

The weeks inevitably wore on, which inescapably took their own lovely toll on my mental and emotional health. I didn’t give in much, but occasionally the self doubt, rejection and lack of job offers proved too much for staying strong.

I did have interviews though. In fact, every place I landed a first interview, I had a second interview. Inevitably, the position would go to someone with more experience. It had finally happened. The more experienced of the unemployed were finally ready to sign the dotted line for lower pay – increasing my competition.

Three months passed with unexpected speed. I found myself in December with low prospects and increasing helplessness. For the umpteenth day in a row, I found myself sitting at home, scouring the internet, networking via e-mail.

Today was going to be different, and I soon found that out. An e-mail popped in my Gmail inbox from a former coworker who had just received word about a director of communications searching for a communications specialist. The job would entail writing, digital e-newsletter outreach and event planning. Everything I wanted to do. It was a part-time position paying better than the full-time job at the agency. Too good to be true? I really thought so.

Here I sit now. It’s March, and I scored that job.

Life is a series of experiences, and I wasn’t sure how this one would end. The psychological and emotional toll of being laid off is something that I still contend with – I still deal with the survivor effect too. I don’t dwell on it, but it’s altogether impacted my perspective.

I understand the instability of companies and the lack of employee loyalty. This isn’t my parents’ work world – and it certainly isn’t my grandparents’.

I put my youthful passion and enthusiasm into that first job. I made it my home, and my coworkers my friends. I learned and I grew there. Being rejected by that very place has had deep repercussions in my outlook on future jobs. Those disturbances are just now starting to reveal themselves. It’s a similar experience to someone who has just had her heartbroken by her first boyfriend.

In comparison to my previous attitude, I’m disillusioned, despondent and withdrawn. I bury myself in my cube, and I work hard enough. I’m less likely to stand up for my work or to push back. I find myself having a hard time investing in relationships with my coworkers because who knows how long I’ll be here. There seems to be an expiration date set to everything, and I don’t think I can go through another breakup like the last one.

I even tried to “just be friends” after the breakup. I’ve gone out with former coworkers still working there. With many of them, it’s hard because sometimes you just can’t be friends.

This time work won’t be the same. I’ll appreciate having a job more. I’m grateful for the quality work assignments, and it’s nice to be valued. That’s all contained within perspective though and mine is permanently altered. My first job robbed me of my innocence. And for that, I’m the sadder but wiser girl.

Have your own story about being laid off? Please feel free to share.