Decimation

Okay, lets say you're at your desk and you have the following information:

One -  A lot of people in your area are being laid off today
Two - People are being notified in person, then walked out of the building with a box of belongings;
and
Three - Not a hell of a lot else

That's a short list. Guaranteed to provoke your stressed mind into demanding more information.

Plenty of people are willing to fill that need with crap:

"...100 people are being let go."
"...They're going to do this every year."
"...I heard security is watching the parking lot in case people go postal."

Most of this noise is un-sourced nonsense that has no bearing on the situation at hand - Have I been canned? - so it's easy to filter out.

But people have been told to wait at their desks, and

Idle + anxiety = bull$h!t factory. 

 Pretty soon, some truly irresponsible stuff starts making the rounds.

I'm told definitively that my boss has been sacked. This does not seem likely, but (because I am stupid) I repeat this nonsense to someone else. My original source returns and rattles off the names of others who will soon be shown the door.

At which point, sanity returns and I realize that this person is full of crap. They certainly could find out who has been sacked, but there's no way in hell they're getting their hands on a list of future ex-employees. Which makes me question their original information - and think myself a dork for getting caught up in the guessing game.

As sucky as it is, we'll know when we'll know.

The team I've been on has been through several purges in the past. We were once over 20 people strong. Three weeks ago we were 9. When Black Wednesday started, we were 8.

We used to be a cohesive team, too. But the re-organization split us into essentially a core group of 4 (who I'll call Apok, Friday, Isis and Murdock) and the rest of us (myself, Ruby, Stimpy, and Din) operating more or less independently.

Friday's been predicting the end for so long, most of us have tuned them out. They'd predicted massive head-rolling back when the new secure doors were put in - and nothing happened.

This time, people are walking in the halls with boxes and Friday's stopped predicting the end, they've started preparing for it. They're emailing personal contact information to everyone on the team "just in case." I read the group's relative anxiety level in their response time.

Apok is first. I've worried about them. They've been outwardly cheerful, but clearly under a lot of strain. 

Isis is second. That's a surprise. No way they're in danger, though. Isis is one of those pros you just want to shadow so you can learn how to be awesome. They're only replying fast because efficiency is a habit. True, the managers aren't involved in the layoff decisions - but Isis is in the clear. Bank on it.

Murdock doesn't even reply. I take that as a sign of confidence. Murdock has a unique skillset and knows it. What's more, they've probably done the math on the expected number of cuts vs. the size of our division. "The numbers they're talking amount to one in ten," they've pointed out more than a few times. "That's bad, but the odds are still in our favor."

One in ten... No need to panic, folks...

Then come Ruby, Stimpy, and Din. They're like me, independents. We're not permanent staff, which normally would put us more at risk - but this time around the signs are inverted. Stimpy was hired a week ago, which I took as a bad sign for permanent staff. If consultants are coming in before a layoff...

I reply directly to Friday's personal email, which in retrospect makes the group think I didn't reply at all, but I was hardly thinking straight at the time. I was getting an earful of BS from some passerby. A huddle was forming - and I figured this was as much as I could stand.

I need Murdock to do something for me, so I email them and ask if they'll have time later in the afternoon. They reply almost immediately - they're out of the office, but I should set something up for tomorrow.  

What a day to be out... still, you miss all the stupid.

I walk out of the office and get some coffee. At the elevators, some older woman is holding a box next to her chaperon. She's loudly telling a colleague that she's happy to go. "It's finally over with. I'm fine..." I wonder if she's fronting or truly relieved. To me, getting canned should be private. You shouldn't have to be brave or explain yourself. You should just be gone and leave an email.

I can't bring myself to share the elevator, lest this person be forced to explain to me how this doesn't bother her. I just want some coffee...

One the way back, I opt to swing by my boss's office. Nothing like hard information. I've been told repeatedly that they are gone. If that's so, they won't be there. Shine light on the BS, it will go away.

I'm taking the long route - so I go by Apok's desk. They're there, talking to someone.

No. Not talking to. Being watched by.

-as they stand over an empty box.

Apok smiles and gives me an impromptu wave.

What do you do??!

You go over, you can't help it. You give them a hug and say "Good luck." I feel absolutely gutshot for them. They crushed their last project, and now this? Soon as I speak the words, I realize I've overstayed. Apok's minder will want them to keep moving. I don't even look at the minder. I back off and wave, "See ya."

So utterly inadequate.

I leg it down towards my boss's office. They're still in there, shoving papers around and talking with someone who looks crestfallen. I blow past and head for the elevator. The boss is still here. The rumormill is so full of it.

I swing back to my project's turf. I need to tell Din about Apok. Din's got a visitor, but it's a social call. Unfortunately, it's a social call just like mine.

I'm telling Din about Apok, that I spoke to Apok and they told me they were gone. This is fact not rumor.

Din's visitor tells us both that Isis is gone.  Sonofab!tch. Isis. NoF*ckinWay.

I grill the source, but it's for real. The visitor's been asked to pull some of Isis's stuff for them. Stuff that wouldn't fit in the one box they had ready.

Goddamn.

The idle staffers around us stop eavesdropping and begin announcing how they've been packed for weeks now, how if the worst happens, they'll be ready-

I leave. Hell with this.

I need to talk to Friday. My IM's down, so I fire off an email. "You still here? Cos I'm here..." I'm kidding, they're at their desk, like everybody else.

Only they don't respond.

I could walk to their desk, but get serious. It's email, and they could be in the bathroom.

I forcibly re-start IM and check Friday's status:

Offline for 1 hour.

Not Away. Offline. Their computer is off.

I check Apok's IM status:

Offline for 1 hour.

Isis:

Offline for 1 hour.

It's not hard data, but while I'm sitting there my cube-mate comes in and says "What was the name of your colleague who used to be in our morning stand up meetings?"

I rattle off the name of a former consultant.

"No, not them. The other one who helped them out."

"Friday."

"I just saw them in the hallway carrying a box."

FuckFuckFuck.

Cube-mate tries to walk it back. "They could be escorting someone.."

Which is a fun hope to entertain, but we both know that Friday isn't a manager and only managers are escorting people out.

Three out of eight is a hell of a lot more than one out of ten.

My cell phone rings. I don't recognize the number and send it to voicemail. And then it occurs to me this could be a call I need to take.

I play the voicemail and hear my account rep talking-

Oh, sh!t.

--No. Not my account rep. Some recruiter calling to see how I'm doing. They obviously know what's going on. And while they're saying "How are you?" what they're really asking is "will you be interested in applying for one of the positions I'm paid to staff?"

In the normal run of things, a consultant would be let go before they came to work. By phone, usually by their account rep. The fact that I got into the building I'd taken as a good sign. But absolutely nothing about today is the normal run of things.

While I'm decompressing, a manager pops in to ask innocent questions and my cube-mate and I both look behind them for someone with a box. But they are alone.

Hell with this. I need to do some work. I test out some fixes to something I screwed up the day before.  Which reminds me I need to set up a meeting for Thursday afternoon.

My counterpart (who unlike me, is an actual developer) needs to sit in on a review - and I keep forgetting to include them in the invites. So I do them first.

Then I do Murdock.

Absent-mindedly. But the name doesn't take. The Exchange server is chronically unreliable, so when it hangs I just get irritated.

Then I pull a past email from Murdock and check their Outlook properties.

Everything's blank except the display field. It shows Murdock's mail has been routed to an administrator.

This is insane. Nobody can do what Murdock does. They're not even here today...

Murdock's boss is different from mine, and they're definitely gone. Maybe this is part of a re-organization. Maybe they're not...

Stimpy confirms it. They saw Murdock's stuff getting boxed up. People taking his laptop.

Rumormill's telling me Ruby's gone, too - but when I check Outlook they're still listed. Rumormill? Still full of it.

I check the rest of us, Din & Stimpy. Outlook still knows us.

I'm assuming that's a good sign...

I'm contacted by external sources telling me - again - that my boss is gone. I check Outlook and find them.Does no one think before they say these things??

Almost in the same instant, my boss sends a meeting request to Ruby, Din, Stimpy and I. It's for the following morning.

It's a confirmation of sorts. The five of us will survive until tomorrow at least.

The day ends with people guiltily celebrating their continued existence.

**************
The following day, I'm going in and I see Murdock by the security desk. Probably waiting to pick up their stuff. As I spent part of yesterday trying to secure Murdock's laptop so we could use its unique software - I'm too ashamed to even say hi. I slip by and head for the meeting room.

Everyone's there early and too nervous for chit-chat.

The meeting with the boss ends up being a statement of the obvious. "We've decided to staff this need with consultants."

My boss informs us that the rumor of his demise spread all the way to their spouse. Someone actually called my boss's home to ask if they were still employed. When they were informed that, yes - my boss still had their job - they insisted they'd heard otherwise.

Who does that kind of crap? Wait 'til the dust settles, eh?

The news is brief, and as we start deteriorating into gossip, the boss ends the meeting.

We file out and collectively exhale.

Four of us.