A tale to tell the grandkids

At our last few staff meetings, Tom (the Chief Executive Officer, aka The Boss) had acknowledged the state of the economy but reassured us that IPS, our little $9 million-a-year training company wasn't in harm's way.

He attributed that to being in the field of education (ish). When people lose their jobs, they start enrolling in school. But we're not exactly a "school."

It started one Tuesday morning. I got a text message from Lea saying "Cisco cut all training starting Feb 1." Kimm said "Now that is what a brick wall feels like."

Not two months before, IBM cancelled all training for all of 2009... all of it.

IBM was our number one revenue-generating account. Cisco, number 2. Google became our number one account in a matter of minutes.

We'd been on a roll at Google since June. Lots of classes, lots of interest, lots of movement, lots of progress. I started working on-site at Google just in time to catch the last of the glory days.

Aside from all the glorious excess, Google had never found use for order or procedure. Just hire amazingly talented and intelligent forward-thinking individuals, make billions of dollars and conduct business under a "do no evil" mantra with the pure goal of making information available... you'd have no reasons for rules either.

It made Google a very easy company to work with. We could do basically whatever we wanted, within reason of course. If there were employees who wanted a class, we could deliver a class and collect the cash.

Coming to the end of 2008, our Statement of Work for the on-site program needed to be re-approved. Right about the same time, Google's Executive Management Group decided to take a closer look at their bulging pocket books. They held up a giant STOP sign, bringing our fast-track 2 million dollar 2009 plans to a screeching halt.

The day Kimm and I got and delivered that message, you could feel the air sucked out of the office.

People started talking. Manager doors started to be closed more often than not. The new generation of IPSers started to get really nervous.

As I was leaving work that day, I went in Kimm's office and shut the door. "Uh Oh" she said.
"Yeah" I replied.

"So.. should I be worried about.. my job?" Kimm told me all she could - that she didn't know what the decisions were going to be, but that yes, cuts were going to be made. She encouraged me to take care of me before anything else and be prepared for anything. It became clear that she would soon be fighting for my job.

"Do you think this will happen after the Christmas party then?"
Kimm said, "No I think it will happen before." There were two days until the Christmas party.

The next day Tom scheduled a last minute "mandatory" staff meeting. At 3pm. We never have last minute all-hands meetings in the middle of the week. Something pivotal was about to happen.

There we all were, the IPS family sitting in our new conference room. Looking around the huge table, it was all friends, a few who felt like family, a few who were family. It was everyone who built IPS to what it had become in 2008. Rockstar professionals and people you just love to be around.

Tom didn't waste any time. He addressed the extreme position we now found ourselves in and said "Make no mistake, significant cuts will be made. Emphasis on significant." He talked about how hard it was going to be and how badly the management team didn't want to do what they had to do, but that announcements would be made the following day.

Everyone's eyes started turning bloodshot as Tom's voice started cracking. I looked at Lea to my right and mouthed the words "I don't want to be here." The sadness in the room was suffocating.

When one of the Executives could barely get his words out, I had no choice but to cover my face and let myself cry. Not because I might lose my job, but because the work life that I enjoyed was about to drastically change.... and no matter what, it was going to hurt.

Talking it through with my best friend Amy that night, we decided there were two ways I could look at the whole thing. Either I don't get laid off... and great. I'm still employed. Or I do get laid off... and a win again. I get unemployment and time to find a new, more rewarding job.

OR, I later thought... either way - I lose. Either I get in the unemployment line or I'm kept... left to save a sinking ship while some of my friends get thrown overboard. What's worse, to get out early? Or to stick around to fight harder with no guarantee you won't be thrown off next?

We waited all morning. No one was talking. No announcements were being made. Anyone who wasn't a manager was on the edge of their seat waiting to hear if they still had a job or not. Yet all the managers acted as if we were capable of talking about anything else.

Eventually all the fates were decided and the news delivered. A group of us went out to lunch, stood by the elevator identifying who was kept and who was let go. Nobody could decide who were the "lucky" ones.

.....................

It's now been a month since that first round of layoffs. It's been a difficult work environment. Looking around corporate America - everything is just... frozen. I really hope it thaws soon.

I still have a job and even though this ship is still sinking, I'm glad to be in a boat with the company and individuals that I am. I know some things are out of anyone's control, but I do feel safe here. For that I am grateful.

And even though it's grim everywhere you look, I still believe that something good is working on happening. This is the time to be most grateful, when you're not where you want to be and you don't see a way to get there. We'll get there people. Keep going.