Don't tell you wife that you're going to spend $500 on snow tires for your car and put it on the American Express, and then go spend $300 on new tires, pay cash, and expect her to be all happy about it.
Just don't.
Trust me on this one.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
My Horrible No Good Very Bad Day
I've never enjoyed a Friday less than yesterday.
At 9:10, one of our QA engineers came up to me as I was speaking to two other friends at work, stuck out his hand, and said, "I just wanted to say it was good working with you." The three of us were confused. "Are you leaving?" I asked in a puzzled tone. The guy hefted a black garbage bag in response and said, "I've been laid off. Me, three other people, and a few across other departments." Flabbergasted, I went looking for the head of Development, the CEO's younger brother and a guy I've been friends with for 10 years. He was walking another employee, brand new SQL Server developer who moved from Philly to take a job with us to his desk. He shook his head, and said, "In a little bit."
I went to my boss's office. The other members of my department filtered in and she shut the door. "There's been a cut," she said. "Pretty deep."
The CEO addressed the company at precisely 11:30. At 9:00 a.m. a reduction in force had been executed that resulted in the loss of approximately 20% of our staff domestically. With our clients slashing costs and jobs (our clients being all these wonderful financial institutions reeling from the mortgage crisis as well as the stock market turmoil), our sales forecasts were down, and management decided we needed to take action to ensure the company would not only survive, but be strong and ready to rebound by retooling to focus on client service. Ironically, while our clients cut costs and jobs, they will be relying even more on our software because while the jobs may get cut, the regulatory and reporting requirements will not. By focusing on making our clients happy, the CEO said, we will ensure that in 18 months, about how long they are predicting this current situation will last (and these are smart guys - they were right back in 2002 about the 9/11 fall-out), we are ready to storm out of the gate again. We were assured that the RIF portion of the plan was over, and those of us remaining were being counted on to be part of the team to pull us through. We were also assured that a reduction in benefits, such as health coverage, was not being contemplated nor were we going to be asked to pay for a portion of our benefits. Both the CEO and CFO described those as "sacrosanct," although the CFO said they will continue to aggressively shop to make sure our benefits package gives us the most bang for the buck.
Mercifully, the CEO does not follow the AIG example. Our Christmas party, usually quite a lavish affair, was canceled, with the CEO feeling it would be "inappropriate" in the aftermath of a massive layoff. Hear, hear.
Along with the RIF, they unveiled a massive restructuring plan, some of which was very familiar because we've been talking about it in Development for a while, but some of which was quite new. Two guys I work with are leaving their current positions to return to their roots in Client Support - where they will be fabulous, actually, but still.
When the dust settled in the early afternoon, unofficial losses stood around 43 people, somewhere between 20 and 30 percent of the company. One of those losses was a woman I have worked with and called a friend for 10 years - she had been with the company for 11. Clearly, seniority was no protection from the scythe of economic practicality.
Fortunately, nobody in my department was cut, and Development's losses in general were pretty light. That meant I wasn't saying good-by to too many close friends. But in a small company, almost everybody is a "friend," with the possible exception of a few folks who hadn't been with us very long. The mantra of the day was, "How are you?" "Well, I'm still here." It wasn't a particularly comfortable response. As I said to the CEO, "So this is survivor's guilt, huh?" He hugged me in response. The COO and I gave each other a strong hug as well (yes, we are not a huge company and I am that close to our CEO and COO).
Hugs, in fact, were running high all over the company. After work, there was an impromptu gathering at the bar down the street, appropriately named Finnegan's Wake, for our own Irish funeral. Even my friend in TS who never drinks had a Guinness. Our toast was appropriate, "To us, to the future, to our friends who are gone." The most senior developer, a guy who has been with us for almost 20 years and who was floored that a member of the "10 year club" had been let go hugged everybody as he left. We filtered out by ones and twos. I left with a guy from QA who has become a very good friend in the year he's worked with us. "This is the worst Friday ever," I said. We parted at the parking garage with another hug.
Some cynics who read this would say this is only the start, but despite the fact that I've disagreed with the CEO, CFO, and COO over the past couple years, I believe they are men of integrity and they told us the truth. There will be no more RIFs, always barring unforeseen economic catastrophe (like going out of business, which I don't anticipate) and they will not touch our benefits package. And yes, looking at their faces yesterday morning I believe this was as hard on them as the rest of us. And like them, I believe we can and will come out of this a leaner, stronger, better company. We did it after 9/11, we can do it again.
But man, Monday never looked so good.
At 9:10, one of our QA engineers came up to me as I was speaking to two other friends at work, stuck out his hand, and said, "I just wanted to say it was good working with you." The three of us were confused. "Are you leaving?" I asked in a puzzled tone. The guy hefted a black garbage bag in response and said, "I've been laid off. Me, three other people, and a few across other departments." Flabbergasted, I went looking for the head of Development, the CEO's younger brother and a guy I've been friends with for 10 years. He was walking another employee, brand new SQL Server developer who moved from Philly to take a job with us to his desk. He shook his head, and said, "In a little bit."
I went to my boss's office. The other members of my department filtered in and she shut the door. "There's been a cut," she said. "Pretty deep."
The CEO addressed the company at precisely 11:30. At 9:00 a.m. a reduction in force had been executed that resulted in the loss of approximately 20% of our staff domestically. With our clients slashing costs and jobs (our clients being all these wonderful financial institutions reeling from the mortgage crisis as well as the stock market turmoil), our sales forecasts were down, and management decided we needed to take action to ensure the company would not only survive, but be strong and ready to rebound by retooling to focus on client service. Ironically, while our clients cut costs and jobs, they will be relying even more on our software because while the jobs may get cut, the regulatory and reporting requirements will not. By focusing on making our clients happy, the CEO said, we will ensure that in 18 months, about how long they are predicting this current situation will last (and these are smart guys - they were right back in 2002 about the 9/11 fall-out), we are ready to storm out of the gate again. We were assured that the RIF portion of the plan was over, and those of us remaining were being counted on to be part of the team to pull us through. We were also assured that a reduction in benefits, such as health coverage, was not being contemplated nor were we going to be asked to pay for a portion of our benefits. Both the CEO and CFO described those as "sacrosanct," although the CFO said they will continue to aggressively shop to make sure our benefits package gives us the most bang for the buck.
Mercifully, the CEO does not follow the AIG example. Our Christmas party, usually quite a lavish affair, was canceled, with the CEO feeling it would be "inappropriate" in the aftermath of a massive layoff. Hear, hear.
Along with the RIF, they unveiled a massive restructuring plan, some of which was very familiar because we've been talking about it in Development for a while, but some of which was quite new. Two guys I work with are leaving their current positions to return to their roots in Client Support - where they will be fabulous, actually, but still.
When the dust settled in the early afternoon, unofficial losses stood around 43 people, somewhere between 20 and 30 percent of the company. One of those losses was a woman I have worked with and called a friend for 10 years - she had been with the company for 11. Clearly, seniority was no protection from the scythe of economic practicality.
Fortunately, nobody in my department was cut, and Development's losses in general were pretty light. That meant I wasn't saying good-by to too many close friends. But in a small company, almost everybody is a "friend," with the possible exception of a few folks who hadn't been with us very long. The mantra of the day was, "How are you?" "Well, I'm still here." It wasn't a particularly comfortable response. As I said to the CEO, "So this is survivor's guilt, huh?" He hugged me in response. The COO and I gave each other a strong hug as well (yes, we are not a huge company and I am that close to our CEO and COO).
Hugs, in fact, were running high all over the company. After work, there was an impromptu gathering at the bar down the street, appropriately named Finnegan's Wake, for our own Irish funeral. Even my friend in TS who never drinks had a Guinness. Our toast was appropriate, "To us, to the future, to our friends who are gone." The most senior developer, a guy who has been with us for almost 20 years and who was floored that a member of the "10 year club" had been let go hugged everybody as he left. We filtered out by ones and twos. I left with a guy from QA who has become a very good friend in the year he's worked with us. "This is the worst Friday ever," I said. We parted at the parking garage with another hug.
Some cynics who read this would say this is only the start, but despite the fact that I've disagreed with the CEO, CFO, and COO over the past couple years, I believe they are men of integrity and they told us the truth. There will be no more RIFs, always barring unforeseen economic catastrophe (like going out of business, which I don't anticipate) and they will not touch our benefits package. And yes, looking at their faces yesterday morning I believe this was as hard on them as the rest of us. And like them, I believe we can and will come out of this a leaner, stronger, better company. We did it after 9/11, we can do it again.
But man, Monday never looked so good.
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