A Friend, Indeed

Never underestimate the power of a hard reboot.

Generation Ex examines the ‘exs’ of our lives - our expertise, our expectations and our experiences - and how they can be a catalyst for personal growth when your professional (or personal) journey suddenly shifts under your feet.

Raw, humorous, and deeply human, explore the inevitable unravelling of carefully constructed identities and the unexpected wisdom found in starting anew.

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About a year ago, a friend came to me in a state I had never seen them in before. Well, that’s not quite true, but they were worse off than I had ever seen them before.

They had just endured a relatively short stint at a company so dysfunctional that they were broken both mentally and physically and left with no choice but to walk out the door.

As these pages – and yes, I know, not for a while – have discussed often, the fear of stepping into the void of unemployment at our age can be terrifying. What this friend understood, though, was the choice between the dark path into the wilderness and the unrelenting and growing insanity around him was no real choice at all.

They had walked the wilderness before and – their current situation aside – that path had led to places, experiences, friends, and sometimes jobs more fulfilling and inspiring than they ever could have imagined. This role only promised a slow, painful, and harrowing death.

What I’ve witnessed in the time since, however, was that the leaving did not bring my friend an easy relief. Yes, the initial decision to leave such a toxic workplace released the immediate pressure of daily insults, injuries, and injustice, but a decision to walk away meant facing that familiar darkness once again.

There’s a reason it’s called the Wilderness. It’s wild. It’s unknown. And it is very, very lonely. In that aloneness there is space for old voices to speak again. Doubt, self-loathing, and as the years pass, the quiet creep of belief that your last job will be, well, your last job.

I watched this friend quietly shut down, withdrawing from friends, ramp up old – bad – habits, and most sadly for me, pack away any and all efforts to kick over the pedals of creative effort that was so core to the person I loved.

But we would get together from time to time and walk.

It was in this time that I slowly began to understand just how deeply the entire, miserable experience had shattered my friend.

We have all gone through moments where the difficulty and pain we suffer is driven by deep, well-trodden grooves in our mind. Internal voices that pull you down into the impostor syndrome-doubts of your own ability. But what happens when it’s not you? That the ones driving your insecurity are not only tacitly allowing you to twist in the psychological wind, but wilfully – and habitually – pulling at the strings holding you together?

How long is it possible to maintain sanity in a place determined to unravel it?

For my friend, the answer was too long.

As we continued to walk and the distance between the trauma and our footsteps grew, what became clear was my friend’s shutdown was completely inevitable and entirely necessary. Like a crashed computer, the only way forward for my friend was a complete reboot. A fresh install of an operating system that wipes away bad code and clogged memory, leaving the fresh chime of a restarted machine.

But that takes time. Time and intent.

The time allows for both a quiet healing and the clarity that comes with distance. But the intent is the most important. The intent is what kindles a belief that there will be a path through the wilderness back out into the sun.

We continued to walk.

In fits and starts, it was clear that my friend was returning. We spoke more and more about the things that happened, what it felt like, and most importantly, the journey back. But a small side comment in one of our conversations caught my attention and I asked about it.

My friend had noted that their deepest regret was they did not hand in their resignation letter when they chose to leave, so I asked why.

“It wasn’t worth it. I had made my decision and it was easier to get along to go along.”

We walked quietly for a long time, both of us thinking deeply about the impact of that choice… although, I was also thinking, is it ‘get along to go along’ or ‘go along to get along’?… anyway…

At a turn in the path I asked if it would help if I shared it.

My friend smiled.

Posted here.

In full.

With intent.

It is with great relief and very little surprise that I submit my resignation letter to you, bringing my time at this company to a close.

The events of the past six weeks have brought clarity to a long-held suspicion that the harder the leadership team squeezes to control its narrative, the more brittle the foundations of the company become.

I have watched eight of roughly fifteen people employed here at the outset of my hiring be pushed out or depart on their own terms – more than a few choosing to exit without alternative. For over six months now, I was under no illusion that I would somehow be spared the time where I too would be forced to make a choice. It is disquieting, mentally and physically exhausting, and sadly, entirely inevitable considering the company’s history.

I have done my best to navigate a dizzying sequence of events leading up to the unfounded and unhinged challenge to my integrity and writing ability two days on from a casual mention in conversation of a college-aged diagnosis of learning differences over thirty years ago - and yes, I do believe this was the key catalyst that ultimately sparked these events.

Following on from this first salvo, I was asked to explain my LDs – which I had no intention of doing – in a meeting meant to ‘clear the air’ but proved nothing more than a withering and aggressive affront to my honesty, work ethic, and dedication - none of which have ever been called into question prior to my time working in this office.

And yet, I was still willing to find a path through until the very end of that meeting, following a discussion of next steps. The conversation returned to the issue of an aggrieving social post where I was angrily scolded again for not having paid attention during the ‘five minutes of screen sharing’ in that morning’s daily stand-up, ‘how could anyone be sure my inattention wouldn’t continue going forward?’

Exhausted and uneasy by the once again rising temperature in the room, I calmly responded by promising to be more mindful, hoping to defuse an environment already fraught with tension and anger. Unfortunately, my own recollection of the morning’s meeting was that the screen-sharing referenced here was entirely untrue – a fact I confirmed to be the case as soon as I was safely gone from the office.

Whether deliberately misguiding or an oversight, the statement’s disconnection from facts cast a long shadow over that afternoon’s unrelenting and entirely undocumented references to past directives, demands, and shortcomings on my part.

It was this fundamental crack in the dam that brought the flood of disbelief, anger, instability, emotion, and ultimately, cleansing clarity to my mind.

There is a cruel irony inherent in this company’s ceaseless insistence on their listed ‘Code of Behaviours’ being continually failed by the very leadership that demands it.

An insistence so rigid as to belie the inclusion of ‘Nimbleness’ in that code.

An application of ‘Creativity’ so misguided that employing the best talent isn’t an opportunity to go from ‘good to great’ but a chance to choke life from fresh ideas and squeeze those willing to endure into tools to be used only by those who think they know best.

An environment where ‘Excellence’ is continually on trial, but accountability stops at the tip of leadership’s pointing finger.

I apologise if this is upsetting, but if so, your reaction reveals the uncomfortable truth behind the golden hammer used to ring the company’s loudest bell, ’Strong and Honest Relationships’. A truth that suggests this ultimate behaviour applies only in one direction or means less than the paper it’s written on.

A final thought as I leave you. The last remaining behaviour, to ‘strive for a life of constant learning’, could be a way forward for the company and its leadership. If at the end of this reading there isn’t a deep and desperate commitment to learn, truly learn from the disasters witnessed during my short time working here, then there really is no future for this company on which to build and my choice to depart will be borne out in spades.

If I believed that would be the case, I would not be handing in my resignation.

Sincerely…

My friend and I walked on quietly toward the sun.