How could I forget? December 7^th, Pearl Harbor Day. What a better day to get bombed. It’s not like it was a shock. While working at AOL, it was never a question of “if” you would be laid off, it was “when”. Layoffs usually happened every quarter. No, they weren’t as large scale as the one we were part of, but they happened. Everyone knew what day it would be based on the conference rooms HR would reserve on that particular Tuesday morning every quarter. Plus, we had the best source of information in the world, The Washington Post. Their reporter, who obviously had one very good inside source, would share reports at least twice a week or sometimes more about what was going on inside our company. Who needed management communications or the rumor mill?  I just had to read the Post.  This guy was dead on accurate. At 10% layoff was coming that day. No executive needed to tell us. Once the Post had it, nothing more needed to be said. 

The MO was always the same. The emailed invite to the Tuesday morning 9:30 meeting from HR. The invite was never specific what you were being invited to, but everyone knew what that meeting was. If you got that, start packing your office. On December 6^th I was working from home that day. Because of that, I was online later than usual. At 5:45 pm, I got that email. I was stunned, but not surprised.  If anything, I had forgotten that was layoff Tuesday.  My time had come. Considering I’d survived various rounds for four years, I actually felt lucky. Then I got an IM from someone in my department. Then another one. Then another one. As we collaborated it was clear everyone in the entire department got one. Yep, in the great big org chart on an executive’s desk somewhere in either Dulles, Virginia or New York City, a big ole X was drawn. There’s no need for a Quality Engineering department. Let the developers test. Forget the fact that the executive never visited Columbus or even knew the work we did.   

I honestly don’t remember what I did that evening. I’m sure it involved alcohol. My family and friends were optimistic, but they didn’t know what I did. I’d seen it too many times before and the Washington Post was publishing inside layoff reports unusually late.  I showed up early the next day and everyone was in already packing their things. Many had been there way longer than me so there was quite a bit to pack. I had the least amount of seniority at 4 years. Many had been there around ten years, my boss had been there 19 years. 

Of course they were all with a company called CompuServe. Once a giant in the Columbus technological sector, they faltered due to good product but bad marketing. When AOL bought them out a little before the big AOL Time Warner merger, these survivors saw all their old colleagues picked off one by one. I remember the worst from the outside, hearing about the hundreds of people from CompuServe that lost their jobs when AOL took over. How the Columbus IT market was now flooded with new applicants. How many of them applied for too few positions available at my company.

I came on board shortly after that merger, one of the biggest disasters in corporate history.  So why did I take a job at AOL knowing job security wasn’t there?  Easy, it was actually a laid back fun company to work for. Flexible hours. Work from home options. Incredible benefits for my family. Plus online services sounded so much better than the other opportunities in Banking, Government, or Insurance that dominate the Columbus job market. I was right. I had a blast. I often got to see the inner workings of content and how it filtered through the massive infrastructure. I also learned so much about big time corporate politics within a media company. Most of the drama happened in New York and Virginia and I was just an innocent spectator in Columbus watching all the madness with delight. Sure I knew it would catch up to me one day, but the entertainment value was worth the risk.

Anyway, the meeting. One of my colleagues wore a t-shirt that said “Bite me.” I wouldn’t stop signing “Always Look On The Bright Side of Life” from Monty Python’s The Life of Brian. It caught on with some people. HR came in with the severance packets and handed it out to the fifty or so of us in the room with little explanation. The meeting was cold and impersonal. Considering how much time many of those people put into this company, the “don’t let the door hit you” attitude was offensive. The only good thing was since it was such a large layoff, the severance was really good. Four months with paid insurance. The standard was two. 

Within a half hour we had less than two to clear out our offices and turn in our badges. We had to be out by noon. While I was packing a number of survivors with extreme survivor guilt stopped by to offer their sympathies. I felt more sorry for them. Sure, I lost a job, but the uncertainty was now over. I felt more free than anything. Plus it was just before Christmas and knowing that I’d have financial security for four months would give me a chance to relax and enjoy the holidays for a change. Of course the layoff meant we were disinvited to the company Christmas party that was scheduled that week. That part bummed me out the most since AOL always gave some great company parties with full open bar. 

With my boxes packed I headed out the door watching the sad faces of the survivors. The ones that did lose their jobs months later. Out of a campus that once housed 700 people, only 30 remain today.  It saddens me everytime I drive by that abandoned building and parking lot. The fondest thing I remember in leaving was the security guard at the gate who always greeted us every day with a smile. He gave me a quick yet heartfelt blessing from God.  A simple gesture that did so much more than anything else others with the company said that morning. 

With that I headed on over to Building 9. All of us sat there all afternoon, drinking, eating, and playing pool. No one was crying in their beer. We were all smiles and cheers and enjoying each other’s company. The shock of it all would hit tomorrow. Today, we celebrate. After all, it was Pearl Harbor Day. I still keep in touch with most everyone thanks to the powers of Facebook and Linked-In, but our get togethers have gotten fewer and farther between. I’ll occasionally run into someone at a contract I’m working, but for the most part, we’ve moved on with our lives. 

I haven’t landed with a company yet. I’ve done consulting since then and it’s been harsh. I’ve been working with banking, insurance, and government. That’s all that’s left in Columbus. None of the environments have been as interesting nor have they been as personal. I come in, do a great job on a project, and I’m very lucky to get a pat on the back before I’m sent out the door. No time to bond with co-workers because I’ll be gone in months. No chance to be part of something you truly believe in.  You don't fit in the budget.   

But hey, that’s ending on a sob story and that’s not what this is about. It’s about remembering a time when no matter how bad the company was, there were others that were by your side. People you could trust and share a beer with. How we all went down together. If that isn’t the true spirit of Pearl Harbor Day, I don’t know what is.     

Have a layoff story you want to share?  I'd love to hear about it.