On Confidence

Tech layoffs, Marcus Aurelius, and discarding anxiety

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Photo by Peter Žagar on Unsplash

Crises are weird. They just don’t seem plausible until they happen.

Growing up, I never saw my parents lose their jobs. They were never fired and they were never laid off. Both were competent and good at what they did. They worked hard and had good relationships with their bosses. Whenever I’d hear about bad economies and unemployment rates, they were things that impacted others. Not us, though. Never us.

This idea was reinforced when, one night in 2020, the CEO of the small startup I worked for called me. It was hours before Governor Whitmer’s Stay Home order went into effect. I was running through midtown Detroit, logging a few miles before logging a few miles became a crime. I felt the vibration in my pocket, heard his voice in my ear, and digested the news as my temples pulsed with oxygen-starved heartbeats. His words were muffled by my pulse’s rhythmic thumping, but I heard the important ones: furlough, effective immediately, documents in email.

The shock was temporary. Thirty-six hours later, he called me back saying they actually couldn’t function without me and they needed my help. That gave me confidence.

I carried that confidence as waves of layoffs hit the US in 2022. It must suck to be one of those people, I’d think as I chugged away at my new tech job. I‘m valuable and doing good work. I’ll be fine.

I carried that confidence as my new tech job asked me to join a small working group to plan mass layoffs. It must suck to be in one of these roles, I’d think as I scanned the list of impacted employees. There were literally thousands of names. My team is too important, and I’m doing good work. I’ll be fine.

I carried that confidence even as I was offered an exit: we’re offering corporate team members three months of salary to walk away from the company, they said. I declined the offer. This experience is too useful, and I’m adding value. I’ll be fine.

History, by and large, is a long list of blindsided losers. I wasn’t fine, and the day finally came where my job went away. I would be jobless for the next five months.

Crises are weird. They don’t seem plausible until they happen, and when they do, you see them everywhere. I’m not working enough, I told my girlfriend as we walked together Friday afternoon. And I’m worried I’m not being productive enough. This conversation came days after I told her I wasn’t comfortable taking much vacation time this summer. It’s been nine months since I lost my job, and I’m four months into something new. The team is strong and the culture is healthy. On the surface, everything is steady state.

But I’ve found myself high-strung and anxious about the value I’m adding, feeling guilty when my workday ends at 5pm. I need to work this weekend, I’ve said every weekend since moving to the Bay Area. After a layoff and extended unemployment, I’ve found myself in a strange position: working to claw back the confidence to think I’ll be fine. Because what if it happens again? It absolutely could.

When I was in college, I fell in love with Stoic philosophy. I keep two copies of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius on my bookshelf, alongside a copy of On The Shortness of Life by Seneca. After our conversation Friday, I revisited Meditations and re-read a favorite passage. It was soothing.

Today, I escaped from my anxiety. Or no, I discarded it, because it was within me, in my own perceptions - not outside.

It’s very human to feel unwanted things, but it’s also very human to set them aside and overcome them. I’m not working this weekend, and that’s okay. The work will still be there on Monday.

I’ll be fine.