When the Cable Snaps

The elevator rises slowly, as it has been for almost a decade. It started at the bottom and has lifted upwards, stopping at several floors along the way. The elevator continues its journey to the top, only you’re not sure if you want to get there. You contemplate your ascent, weighing your options.

Do you press the button for the next floor?

Do you return to the main lobby? Exit the building?

Do you climb higher in this metal box?

Before you can make your own decision, a decision is made for you.

Something snaps the cable.

-

The Snap

March 10, 2025

A single email is all it takes.

Just before 10:00 AM, an invite for a fifteen-minute meeting at 10:15 AM with my manager pops into my inbox.

I stare at my computer screen with my stomach curling into knots. I try to think of all the possible reasons for that meeting, but my thoughts immediately focus on the worst.

There is only one reason for that meeting.

Due to organizational changes, your position has been eliminated.

I can say those words are surprising, but at the same time, they are not unexpected. Over the past few years, annual layoffs have become commonplace. It was only a matter of time. Decades of loyalty, outstanding performance, specialized roles. None of it matters. No one seems to be safe from these cuts.

But only two weeks post-op from my nasal surgery, my main concern is recovery and trying to get back to normal, not anything related to organizational changes that might impact my job.

When I end the call with my manager, I am upset. I am disappointed. I am in some kind of shock, but it is dulled by the hazy post-surgery fatigue that plagues me. Crying takes too much energy, creates too much congestion, brings too much pain. I decide to sleep instead, while I feel numbed, before the ruminating thoughts start to creep their way in.

The same day, the peepers begin their chorus. It's soft at first with just a few scattered voices. But then it builds in a deafening crescendo until I can hear nothing else.

-

The elevator plummets. Gravity is sucked away as you float, weightless. You watch the pieces of your life surround you, now up in the air. You are in a vacuum, a suspension of time and reality, as the world continues to move forward around you. For how long, you are not sure. The only thing you are sure of is the looming uncertainty.

-

The Fall

March 18, 2025

Having been working from home since my surgery, I finally make my way back to campus for the first time in a month. It has taken all my energy to get out of bed, get ready, and drive to work. It is the most physically active I've been in weeks.

I push open the door to my office and flick on the lights, thinking that I will only do this a few more times.

My ever-present sinus headache reminds me that I should conserve my energy and only focus on what is necessary. I take some Motrin to get me through the day.

Starting with a low-energy task, I start to pack some of my things from my office. I don't have much, and it doesn't take me long, but I'm not ready to do anything else.

I hide in my office for as long as possible, avoiding the paths of coworkers in the hallway. I don't look forward to the tight-lipped smiles, concerned glances, or the impending questions.

Eventually, I steel myself and make my way around the building, checking in with people. My manager, the colleagues I work with on a daily basis, the colleagues I work with frequently, the colleagues I no longer work with but have in the past.

I am stuck in a loop, having identical conversations with each person I see.

"I'm so sorry."

But it is not their fault. This is what happens when a large corporation reduces its employees to a simple number. A simple number that impacts a much more valuable number, apparently.

"How are you doing?"

Like I am grieving a loss. And it is a loss. Losing a job is considered a major life event, along with things like the death of a loved one and a major health experience, both of which have happened for me within the last six months. Things happen in threes.

"What's next?"

I haven't even had a chance to breathe. I just need a break. I am burnt out. I don't have the desire to discuss the future of my career at this current moment. But I do anyway.

-

It is now that I truly realize how many people I've worked and interacted with over the past nine years. I've worked in three different departments in three different roles but have kept in touch with everyone in some capacity as I moved along in my career.

It is the people I will miss when I leave, not the job itself. Thinking back on all the wonderful experiences, I will forever be grateful for the people who have helped me and provided so many invaluable opportunities in the professional world.

Holding back tears, I continue on my rounds until the numbness in my forehead consumes whatever resolve I have left.

March 24, 2025

My coworkers organize a Happy Hour gathering for me and another colleague also affected by the recent organizational changes. I don't have much of a choice, so I go.

I sip my water as everyone else orders a real drink. I socialize, I laugh, I pretend. Joking about unfortunate events. Self-deprecating humor is an anesthetic. A day without laughter is poison.

My battery rapidly depletes with every minute that passes.

After two hours, my head aches and my eyes are tired. Just a month after surgery, I don't have the same stamina for social interaction anymore. To be honest, I didn't have much stamina in the first place.

I say goodbye, thankful that I'm walking to my car and going home.

But I have no energy to cook dinner.

With the rain pounding the windshield, I decide it's a good night for wonton egg drop soup and Szechuan chicken. I punch my order into Grubhub, drive over to the Chinese restaurant five minutes away, and wait.

Exhausted, I just want to be home, curled under a blanket with no responsibilities.

But I must wait. Twenty-five minutes.

Sitting in my car, the melodic cadence of the rain is soothing. It is calming. But it is too soft, too gentle, too quiet. I need something else.

I scroll through my Spotify playlists and select one I often revert back to in times of frustration, and mental and emotional weariness. It's funny how I continually go back to the same music when I fall into the same emotional state. It's like a muscle memory for nostalgic nerves. My teenaged self was onto something.

Linkin Park pulses through the speakers, the base heavy and the volume much louder than I normally allow. But this moment is not normal. I need it loud. The intensity captures something deep inside; it keeps the circling vultures at bay.

My mind numb from the blasting music, I watch raindrops hit the windshield. I watch each one land, slowly sliding downward until it gains enough momentum to streak its path across the glass.

Potential energy becomes kinetic energy.

With time, I will turn my stagnant potential energy into kinetic energy.

April 4, 2025

Today is the last day I will have my badge scanned by the kind security guard and drive through the gates of the campus.

Today is the last day I will walk into the building to my office and see my coworkers in the hallway.

Today is the last day I will log onto my computer, check emails, and send responses from an email that will no longer exist in 24 hours.

Today is the last day.

In a daze, I make a final round of goodbyes to the people I can find in the office. I go through the day on autopilot, not thinking much about anything.

By the early afternoon, I am completely exhausted. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I decide it is time.

My office is empty. My laptop is powered off. My badge is removed.

I leave my laptop and my badge with the administrative assistant.

I lift my backpack onto my shoulder, now oddly light.

I walk down the stairs and out the doors of the lobby.

I drive through the gates one last time.

I am officially unemployed.

The Landing

April 10, 2025

Almost a week after my last day, I peel the parking sticker off the windshield. It comes off easier than I expected. Residual adhesive clings to the glass. I don't make an effort to scrape it off. Some things will always linger, vestiges of previous times, memories that push me forward, reminders of how far I have come.

April 15, 2025

I drive to my 10:45 AM haircut appointment, dreading the inevitable conversation with the hair stylist. I don't have the energy to explain my situation.

But then I realize I am in control of my own narrative. It's not our situations that make us, it's what we make of our situations.

So, when she asks me if I have the day off from work, I have my answer.

"I was laid off."

"I lost my job."

"I am in between jobs."

And it is true.

I already have another job lined up for June. I decided to give myself some time off to recharge, recalibrate, reset. I accepted a position with more flexibility, a better work-life balance, and an exciting new purpose.

I tell her this and she is all happiness as she congratulates me on my new job. Then, she shares she also has news: she's opening her own hair studio!

We are both excited for each other, and that is everything I need in that moment.

She says 2025 is the year for change, for amazing new opportunities.

And I agree.

-

A miraculous force catches the elevator before it crashes to the bottom. Somehow, you land safely as the elevator dings. The fall seemed to have lasted a second and an eternity. The doors open to the first floor. You walk through the lobby of this place one last time, push through the doors to the fresh spring air.

It feels like relief.

Sunlight stretches out in front of you, the warmth awakening the dormant.

The bluebirds dance in the trees, their vibrant blue and orange feathers paint the dull landscape of the waning winter.

You're not closing the book; you're simply turning the page.

A new chapter begins.