I was officially fired on a Monday, October 2006. Got the call at home after four months of being in limbo about the status of my role. My husband answered the phone and told my then boss that I was still in bed. It made me so mad that he said that, like I was some worthless lazy bozo (although that’s what was going through my head so maybe he was more psychic than observant.)
My heart pounded while I returned the call. I was put through right away. I think my then boss wanted to get it over as quickly as I did. It sounded like she was reading from a script. I remember saying something like, “Let’s end this on as much of a positive note as possible.” We had worked directly together for four years, and tangentially for several years before that. I loved making her proud with my writer and director lists, typing up our collective notes on scripts, and finding more efficient ways to track our projects and calculate success rates.
I went back to bed for the rest of that day.
Later that week, I got a delivery of boxes with my personal belongings from my office. One of the framed photos of my daughter was chipped. A wall mirror that didn’t belong to me was included with my fuzzy red throw blanket, my Everybody’s Watching mug, random bottles of gifted wine and champagne that had sat on bookshelves for years. I had taken to drinking Macallans at night, at my desk, in the space between everyone’s-left-but-the-cleaning-people-haven’t-shown-up. I’d pour the whisky into a styrofoam cup and sip it while I got organized for the next work day. That was before I was told I was a liability.
Didn’t see the hammer coming down.
I knew there was tension especially at the party after the upfronts in May 2006. No one from my department would talk to me. I sat at a table chatting up an actor who starred in one of the new Fall shows. We small-talked for what must have been 45 minutes. It was painful. She didn’t want to be with me either, but no one came to our rescue.
The solo walk back to the hotel after the upfront party felt like a walk of shame. I’m not sure why I didn’t grab a cab. There was something about how the balls of my feet in my Manolos burned hotter than my upset of not being included in the after-after parties.
It’s not fun to write about this topic: What it takes to get to the first Monday post being let go. What happens between hearing that you’re no longer wanted or needed or respected or desired or loved. When you’re no longer top banana, sought after, leaned into, elevated, or worshiped in that dirty, slimy, shiny Hollywood way. How you’ll no longer get a reservation, a special consideration, a random smile or nod, a deference.
Some people I know go into aggressive pursuit of the next thing as soon as they hear they’ve been sacked. They set up coffees, drinks, lunches, dinner - anything anyone will grant them. And as a show of grace, these get-togethers actually happen because there’s an underlying belief: If I throw a bone to someone who just lost their job then they’ll throw me a bone when I eventually get tossed out.
It’s inevitable. Nothing lasts forever.
I’m not trying to throw shade here but there’s a long list of high profile and non high profile execs, showrunners, actors, writers, directors, etc, etc. who have touched success and then … nothing.
When I was an assistant at an agency, I had direct knowledge that a young agent was going to be fired. I liked her - she was energetic, smart, kind. I didn’t dare say anything to her about what was going down - we weren’t close, in fact we didn’t really even have a relationship other than I would put her calls through to my boss. And I’m a rule follower and the unspoken rule was “don’t rock the boat” aka don’t screw up any promotion that might be coming your way.
I was shocked when this young agent jumped ship to a larger agency before she was fired. And as the news sank in, I was delighted. She had out-maneuvered them! She hadn’t looked like someone who could be that politically savvy … tells you how naive I was, and honestly I still am.
My out maneuverability skills didn’t exist when I was fired in 2006. I just begged and pleaded to the universe to give me a chance to right the wrongs that I wasn’t totally clear on. But I would have taken responsibility for anything just to have a second chance.
Sometimes I wonder who knew what was going to happen to me. It’s a testament to my lack of real relationships that no one gave me a heads up. Maybe those in the know believed it was better to not rock the boat.
That first week post after I was let go was primarily spent in bed. There was one phone call from an agent who had a high profile gig she wanted to put me up for. I said, “I can’t. I don’t have it in me …” She was baffled. There were other calls, but at the time I couldn’t say the words “I was fired” out loud. Too much shame. There was some vague announcement in the trades about how I was taking care of family business or some sort. It was true that I was less than a year into being a first time mother, and my father had just died from cancer. But that was just a smokescreen for the company not wanting to reveal the skid marks of dirty underwear.
I was grateful that my demise was not explicitly written about in a press release.
This is the point in the blog that I would typically go into action steps and profound insights into how to manage those first days post firing/layoff/downsizing. But grief unfortunately doesn’t have rules. There are commonalities in people’s experiences like shock, rage, despair. I skipped those three and went right into bargaining and depression if we follow the Elisabeth Kubler Ross’ 5 stages of grief model: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
Important note: the stages of grief were never meant to be prescriptive or a flow chart. It was designed to illuminate the experience of grief. The truth is that most people bounce around between those feelings and many many others. Also, you could be in acceptance for days, weeks, months or years and then randomly (or not so randomly) experience feelings of sadness or anguish.
Over the last few months, the massive layoffs that have been occurring in the entertainment industry have triggered memories for me. I’ve had dozens of conversations with work friends who were affected and my empathy and compassion for their experience has re-awakened grief in me.
I’m longing to offer some sage advice for that first Monday after it happens because I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I thought there was some secret rule book that no one would share with me. I thought the only choice I had was getting back on the job search horse, and I simply couldn’t do it. So I believed that on top of being a horrible person who wasn’t capable of keeping a great job, I was broken for not feeling better quickly and getting interviews.
That was the meaning I sat with the first Monday post job loss. And for years after …
What I’ve learned about meaning making from my grief research is that as humans we all create meaning to fill the void of not knowing. Our brains can’t stand uncertainty and it will fill the gap to answer the questions: What happened? Why? What really sucks about this phenomenon is that our brains can’t differentiate between fact and fiction. So the meaning that we create from loss may be quite hurtful and not the truth. Hopefully through mourning you can find a way to helpful meaning as opposed to hurtful.
Another thing I’ve learned about from my grief research is this idea of “Agency”. Agency is about regaining control of one’s life. Grief has this tendency to spin people out of control - a loss of feeling grounded, secure, safe.
It’s now almost 17 years since I was let go. The meaning that I have re-created from my firing is that it was no longer a fit between employee and employer. I do believe the process of being let go was horribly mismanaged, cruel and lacked humanity. The agency I have found is this: Writing about grief in the hopes that it burns through any shame that others might be feeling. Coaching and mentoring people through their professional losses. Leading workshops so people can find community and realize that they are not alone. That’s what now drives me.
What was your first Monday like?
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My blog aims to help people achieve their ambitious goals, their moonshot if you will. 😃 Oftentimes, though, we neglect an essential aspect of pursuing our dreams: the inevitable missteps, obstacles, and failures that come our way. Failing to acknowledge and process these losses properly can lead to imposter syndrome, burnout, low self-esteem, confusion, and even result in completely abandoning our dreams. 😟 That's why I strongly advocate for embracing grief awareness (along with other tools like values identification, knowing your why, sharpening executive function, habit forming, and more.) By doing so, we can effectively navigate challenges, regain motivation, and hit our moonshots. ✌🏾️ If you know someone who could benefit, please share this newsletter or recommend me to them. 🙏
Getting To That First Monday After Being Let Go 💔