As nearly all of you know, about a month ago I asked Decagon to take me back, and they agreed. That means we'll be leaving San Diego and my job at Vandelay Industries. A couple of thoughts immediately occur. The first is that in the years since business school, I've seen lots of stereotypical situations, people, and practices that many folks envision when they think of "Corporate America". The one thing I've never seen: a big 'ol batch of layoffs. Sometimes referred to as downsizing, rationalization, reorgs, etc., our company calls them RIFs (reduction in force, as in "I just got riffed"). This is kind of like going to Yellowstone and missing Old Faithful (the difference is that "downsizing" events these days happen more often than Old Faithful eruptions). It would be more accurate to say I hadn't seen one ... until last Tuesday. Old Faithful started to gurgle and spurt on Monday afternoon. Rumor-mongers buzzed with talk that there would be meaningful layoffs announced the next day. The company wanted to tell everyone that had been laid-off before announcing anything, and this meant everybody knew something was afoot before they released the news officially. I observed the entire episode as a bemused spectator, having already given notice I'd be leaving. On the fateful morning, all employees received two emails explaining what was going on. One was from the vice-chairman and said that layoffs were a painful but necessary step toward improved profitability. The other was from the CEO, who said that layoffs were a painful but necessary step toward improved profitability. A couple of hours later, the president of our business unit held a combined meeting/conference call to answer any questions people had. I learned an important lesson: when holding a conference call with folks that are angry and have nothing to lose, make sure you can mute everyone but the host. At one point, she (the president) gamely tried to answer a question about the rationale for the layoffs, only to be interrupted by a conference call participant saying "BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH" (intone proper sing-song for full effect). As it turns out, nobody in my group, or any group near me, was laid off. Even if I'd stayed, my job wouldn't have been in jeopardy. I personally knew 5 or 6 folks that did lose their jobs, but they were in corporate "shared services" type positions. The only thing I can say is that I feel really bad for people that were let go, and am lucky to have a job (and also lucky to be moving to a job that I'm excited about).
The other thought that occurs to me now that I'm moving to Decagon: In a short amount of time, I will go from incessantly complaining about "the system" to joining the family company as a member of the family (thereby becoming a certified member of "the system"). This week I heard an African American commentator on NPR present his theory on why many old-school African American activists dislike Obama (witness Jesse Jackson's crude comment on Obama this week). The commentator said that activists like Jackson have grown so comfortable in their role as outsiders railings against a hopelessly flawed system that the concept of an African American President frightens them. I guess that's one of the challenges of forfeiting outsider status: I've got to do something about all the stuff I used to just complain about.
Lastly, I won't whine much about moving. Suffice to say that I feel like Tom in the following clip. Like the airborne Tom, every time we move I know it's going to hurt. All I can do is wince and brace for the impact.
