The survival guide you've always needed

The Day Everything Broke (Including My Ego)

Let’s get one thing straight. No, everything does not happen for a reason. Say that again, and I’m letting a toddler loose with your unlocked phone.

Now that we got that out of the way, let’s start with a truth bomb. Layoffs feel like public breakups where everyone watches you cry over spreadsheet macros.

Three years ago, I was mid-slack-message about TPS reports when a calendar invite popped up: “Quick Sync!” from an exec I’d never met. My stomach dropped faster than Bitcoin in 2018.

The Script:

• “We’re restructuring.”

• “This isn’t about performance.”

• “We’ll help you land on your feet!”

The Subtext:

• “We over-hired during the pandemic.”

• “Our stock price is tanking.”

• “We’ll ‘help’ by deleting your Slack access in 5 minutes.”

For 72 hours, I oscillated between:

• Stage 1: Ugly-crying to All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

• Stage 2: Manically applying to 27 jobs while eating cold pizza

• Stage 3: Googling “Can you sue a company for using Comic Sans in layoff emails?”

But here’s what I know now. Your layoff isn’t an ending – it’s a forced pivot. Still feel like a slap in the face?

Yeah. Let’s sit in that for a minute.

The 3 Lies They Sold Us (And How to Burn Them)

Lie #1: “It’s Not Personal – It’s Just Business”

The Truth: Of course it’s personal. You poured years into this job. But here’s the reframe: If companies get to be transactional, so do you.

Your Playbook:

• Severance Negotiation 101:

  • Ask for: 2 weeks’ pay per year of service minimum (even if HR claims “policy”).

  • Demand: Healthcare coverage for 3-6 months (COBRA costs more than a Tesla lease).

  • Protect: A written reference letter from your manager (not HR’s sterile “verification of employment”).

  • Script: “I understand this is a business decision. To transition smoothly, I’ll need X, Y, Z. Can we finalize that by EOD?”

• The Power Move:
  Record exit calls (where legal). A friend of mine got an extra $10K severance after HR accidentally admitted, “We’re cutting tenured staff to reduce benefits costs.”

Lie #2: “You Should’ve Seen This Coming”

The Truth: Layoffs aren’t predictable – they’re violent chess moves in capitalism’s game.

Data Dive:

• 64% of laid-off tech workers in 2023 had no warning (Layoffs.fyi)

• 80% of companies that did layoffs in 2022 still missed revenue targets (WSJ)

Your Playbook:

• Stop the Shame Spiral:
  Write this down: “I didn’t fail. The system failed me.” Tape it to your bathroom mirror.

• Audit Your Network:
  Make two lists:

  1. Ride-or-Dies: People who’ll take your 2 AM “I’m a fraud” calls.

  2. Corporate Vampires: “Friends” who ask, “Did you try upskilling?” (Ghost them.)

Lie #3: “You Need to Rebrand Yourself!”

The Truth: You’re not an expired carton of oat milk. Your value didn’t vanish with your job title.

Your Playbook:

• The Resume Hack:
  Replace “Senior Marketing Manager” with:
  “Built campaigns that drove $2.3M in revenue (and survived 47 pointless Zoom meetings).”

• LinkedIn Detox:
  Post this: “Update: I’m available for opportunities. No, I won’t ‘DM for deets.’ Slide into my inbox like a grown-up.”

3 Things I Wish I’d Known Day 1

➡︎ Your worth ≠ your job title.

Delete LinkedIn for a week. Seriously. Your ex-coworkers’ “humble brag” posts “Thrilled to announce I’ve been promoted to VP of Changing Lightbulbs!” can wait.

Try this instead:

• Write down 3 things you’re good at outside work. (Example: My ability to parallel park in downtown SF is borderline heroic.)

• Text a friend and ask: “What’s something you’d call me for that has nothing to do with my job?” (You’ll cry. In a good way.)

➜ Negotiate like a mob boss.

HR’s “final offer” is never final. I learned this after watching The Godfather twice and realizing Michael Corleone would’ve gotten 6 months of severance, not 2.

Your cheat sheet:

• Severance: Ask for 2 weeks of pay per year worked (minimum). If they say no, counter with extended healthcare.

• COBRA: Demand they cover premiums for 3–6 months. (Most companies budget for this—they just hope you won’t ask.)

• References: Get written confirmation that HR will confirm your dates/title in writing. (Verbal promises vanish faster than free office snacks.)

➜ Burn the “5-year plan.”

My “dream job” post-layoff didn’t exist until I invented it. Turns out, reinvention isn’t about climbing ladders—it’s about building your own damn playground.

How to start:

• Audit your skills: What do people actually pay you for? (For me: Writing snarky emails and explaining blockchain to my grandma.)

• Follow the rage: What pissed you off about your old job? (My list: Meetings that should’ve been emails. “Synergy.” Micromanagers who couldn’t spell ROI.)

• Test the weirdest idea: Post-layoff, I launched a Newsletter called My First Layoff on a whim. Now it’s my full-time gig.

Your turn.

The Reinvention Roadmap (No Toxic Positivity Allowed)

Step 1: Grieve Like a Pro

Do:

• Scream into a pillow.

• Block LinkedIn influencers posting “10 lessons from my layoff!” on Day 2.

• Watch Severance (Apple TV). It’s cathartic.

Don’t:

• Join #LeetCode grind cults unless you actually want to be an engineer.

• Apologize for existing. (“Sorry for the inconvenience!” in job apps? Stop.)

Step 2: Find Your “F*** You Fund”

Not Just Money (Though That Helps):

• Skills: List every damn thing you’re good at. Example:

  • “I can explain blockchain to my dog.” → Technical writing.

  • “I survived 3 reorgs.” → Change management consulting.

• Rage Fuel: What pissed you off about corporate life? Build the antidote.

  • Hated micromanagers? Start a coaching biz for first-time managers.

  • Sick of “culture decks”? Launch a podcast mocking corporate jargon (Check Out My First Layoff Podcast).

Step 3: Build in Public

My “No-BS” Approach:

• Week 1: Started a Google Doc tracking my layoff journey.

• Week 4: Shared it on Twitter. Tagged ex-CEO (petty? Maybe. Effective? 200K views).

• Week 12: Turned it into this newsletter (hi!).

Your Homework:

• Open a blank doc. Title it: “[Your Name]’s Corporate Rebellion Manifesto.”

• Write one sentence: “I’m done with ____. Instead, I’ll ____.”

What’s Next?

Your Anti-To-Do List:

• This Week: Breathe. Ignore “hustle” bros.

• Next Week: I’ll show you how to answer “Why’d you leave your last job?” without throat-punching the interviewer.

One Last Thing:
You’re allowed to be furious. You’re allowed to feel lost. You’re not allowed to let a Patagonia-vested stranger define your worth.

We’re rebuilding this thing together – on our terms.