You are an engineer at Big Tech Co. The company is continuing its annual tradition of layoffs.

“I’m really proud of all the work that you’ve done,” the CEO writes in an email. “The last few months have seen a series of amazing launches. We’re pulling in record profits. Also, we’ve made the very difficult decision to terminate some of our colleagues.”

Your coworker comes over to your desk.

“Did you see the email?” she asks.

You nod.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you say. She doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t say anything else.

You open your laptop and pretend to work.

You are on an internal infrastructure team. You meet with another internal infrastructure team. You learn that their manager lost his job. You feel sad.

You consider starting to look for a new job. You think about interview questions and feel a deep sense of imposter syndrome.

“Do you think our team will be affected by the layoffs?” asks your younger coworker. You shrug and stare into the distance like Jay Gatsby staring at a lantern across the bay, except you’re staring at the MK just down the hall.

“We are a data-driven company,” says a PM. Data-informed, you think to yourself.

Saturday morning. You are at a public cafe. You overhear some people talking about the tech layoffs. “I don’t feel bad for them,” they say. “Most of those kids have never worked a day in their lives.”

You have a 1:1 with your manager. She asks if you have any questions about the layoffs. You pause for a moment. “No,” you say. You’re not sure what to ask.

“How are you doing?” asks Jimmy. An innocuous question. “I’m fine,” you say. He does not believe you. “Great,” he smiles sheepishly. “Perhaps you can review my design doc today?”

“You should feel lucky you have a job,” says your retired neighbor. He has not been on a job hunt since the Carter administration. You nod. “I am very lucky,” you reply.

A recruiter messages you on LinkedIn. You write a response, then delete it.

You meet with another internal infrastructure team. You ask about project Zebra, one of their P0 OKRs. They say it’s canceled. “Why?” you ask. “Not enough resources,” they reply. “I understand,” you say. You do not understand.

You open your IDE. You stare at the code. You open the email website. You stare at your emails. You switch back to the IDE.

“At least it’s not like covid times,” they say. You shake your head. “It’s not.”

You message your coworker to see if he wants to get lunch today. You see that he’s been laid off. You feel sad.

You hear rumors that the office in Bangalore is expanding while hiring is frozen in California. “I am not worried,” you say. Not much, anyway.

You see a snarky meme about the layoffs in a group chat. You laugh out loud but you’re secretly crying on the inside.

You have a team meeting with your skip-level manager. He asks if you have any questions about the layoffs. You pause for a moment. You shake your head. You’re not sure what to ask.

Chad calls you from Costa Rica. “How are you doing, champ?” “I’m fine,” you say. “That’s the spirit,” Chad replies.

“A 0% percent raise is a good thing,” says your manager. You sigh. As soon as you leave the meeting, you crumple the comp letter and toss it in the recycling bin.

You see an email that says, “Sign up to host interns this summer!” Excited, you start filling out the application. The form says, “What months are you available to host interns?” The smile runs away from your face. You do not know if you’ll be employed this summer. You delete your application.

You review your resume. You haven’t updated it in four years. You make a halfhearted attempt to bring it up to date.

“Want to go to Mexico for spring break?” you ask your friend. “Sure,” he says. He pauses. “But shouldn’t you wait until you know you have a job?”

You have an org-wide town hall with your director. They ask if anyone has questions about the layoffs. You pause for a moment. You do not say anything. You’re not sure what to ask.

You wonder if today will be your last day in the office.

“Was anyone on your team affected by the layoffs?” your colleague asks. You nod. She sighs. “I thought we were better than this.”

The IK4 migration is blocked again. “The engineer leading the IK4 migration for my team was laid off,” says the PgM. You nod. “I understand.”

You meet with your mentor. “How can I help?” she asks. You pause for a moment and look down at your shoes. “I don’t know.”

You open your laptop. You sigh.

You have lunch with Humayun and Jesse. You discover all of you got the same, standard rating in performance reviews. “Hmm,” you all say.

Friday evening. You’re at a party. You’re talking with someone and you’re having a good time. “What do you do?” they ask. “I work at Big Tech Co,” you respond. “Oh,” they say, and excuse themselves. You stand there, alone.

The CEO takes questions from the company as a whole. Someone asks, “Why?” The CEO responds but does not answer the question.

You log into your computer, once again. You scan your email and nothing says that you’ve been laid off. Yet.

Somehow, you are still an engineer at Big Tech Co.