The Layoff That Sent Me on a 10-Year Emotional Rollercoaster
This goes out to anyone who's been laid off... or has ever worked, period.
This June not only marked Pride month, but it also marked the 10-year anniversary of the layoff that changed my life. If you’re wondering why I’m still talking about something that happened a whole decade ago, it’s because it’s still relevant. And I’ll explain why.
Before I begin, if you missed my Substack intro last week, you can view it HERE to get a sense of my purpose here, what I’ll be posting and why now is the perfect time for me to join. I also talk about age, birthdays and emotional maturity.
Now, back to the topic at hand. I want to kick off the convo by saying layoffs are pretty much a rite of passage in the workforce. Before you experience your first layoff, it’s indeed taboo and easy to shun anyone who gets let go. But then you experience it yourself—potentially more than once—and you realize, wait, this is more common than I thought.
The first time I got laid off was during my very first ~real job~ working as a PA for a now-defunct department at E! called E! News Now. I was highly unequipped for the gig and just wanted to get my foot in the door at the company. I was warned by someone older and wiser than me (even before I began) that I would almost certainly get laid off. She was right. This was my first real rejection in the “entertainment industry” (though I wouldn’t say this counted as anything more than a desk job).
Even though no one at E! cared about this department, having that conversation with a boss who terrified the absolute crap out of me was a punch to the gut. I thought for sure I’d be blackballed from future entertainment opportunities. What on earth would I tell potential employers during interviews? Nice to meet you—I sucked at this job and my boss hated me. Wanna hire me?
Welp, surprise! The layoff didn’t matter, and the access the job gave me to the company was unmatched. Next thing I knew, I had a steady gig at E! Online, which is where I wanted to work in the first place. Suddenly everything was falling into place. I loved that job and the whole experience as an Editorial Assistant more than any job ever. In fact, it led me to a four-year stint at People.com. Now I was a serious working girl.
Leading Up to My Life-Changing Layoff
My four years at People were actually pretty solid. Like any workplace situation, there were ups and downs, and coworkers I bonded with more than others. But overall, I felt safe and respected in that LA office—and much like E! Online, I was fortunate to have a direct boss who motivated me and believed in my work.
But what I’ve learned from any workplace is you can never be too comfortable. I was beginning to get way too comfortable, and I knew it, too. I made it through the first round of layoffs into my third year at the company, and that sparked new excitement for me. I was grateful and ready to take charge. But as the fourth year wrapped, I was losing steam. I was beyond thrilled to have this prestigious job I’d worked my whole life for, and I was still giving it my best work. But I wasn’t going above and beyond.
I was no longer scouring the web throughout the day to find newsy tidbits. Instead, I was rummaging through every single PR blast in my inbox that contained a new song. I can proudly say it was during those days I created my best playlists. Music was so good in 2013-2014. But yes, Spotify had my attention much more than UsWeekly, TMZ or the other outlets I should have been watching like a hawk. Even so, I would most likely still be at People today if things had played out differently. Passions aside, who on earth would voluntarily leave People (especially at that time)?
But of course I thought to myself, if I ever did get laid off for some reason, I could pursue a career in music—whatever that may be. I was starting to connect with a lot of music publicists and featured a lot of my favorite indie artists on People.com (my boss let me step out of the publication’s comfort zone and post some really fun stuff that gave smaller artists a platform). I knew that wherever the road took me, I’d be just fine—or so I thought.
Rumblings about layoffs started making their way in the office during May 2014. This coincided with Meredith Corp.’s takeover of People, which had been under the then-iconic Time Inc. umbrella. The editorial team had their minds set on who would likely be let go. “I think they’re getting rid of the copy editing team in New York,” said some. “Oh, it’s definitely the human interest team in LA,” said others. Some even said no one in LA would be affected, period. Well, surprise, when the “bloodbath,” as they called it, came, I was one of many (in addition to my LA editor and then some) who received a fateful “I hate to make this call…” ring.
While certainly shocking, I handled the news with grace. I got along with everyone in the LA office, and I didn’t take anything personal. And had I stayed put, I’d be stuck with a then-west coast bureau chief who would go on to get fired for a wild plethora of reasons. I took this as my sign to pursue other pastures. Would I work for Billboard? Would I dip my toes into PR? The world was my oyster… right? After all, I had all my LA People colleagues standing by me, and a resume that outshined so many of my peers.
One by one, members of the team who made it through would thoughtfully step into my office, telling me how wrong this decision was and how I will go on to do great things, yada yada. They vowed to stay in touch and let me know if they hear of any job openings. There was so much hope and encouragement; many calls and emails. The support felt great. I didn’t even cry. I had this covered.
Dreadful Life After Layoff
The first two weeks after layoffs were an adjustment, but also empowering at the same time. I already had a few interviews lined up, and I could start working on the blog I wanted to launch. I could sleep in, I could meet people for lunch near my apartment in (gasp!) the middle of the day. I received a very nice severance package from the company, so technically I had a few months where I could kind of do whatever I wanted.
Well, let me tell you—as the news wore off, reality sank in and the how are you doing? messages and Instagram likes from my ex-coworkers dissipated, things started to get really dark. For those last 7 years, I had a full-time job, a steady income, coworkers, routines, a sense of identity. I hadn’t been unemployed since E! News Now—and that felt like a different lifetime anyway.
I would cry in the shower, feel restless about my days. My parents were extremely supportive during this difficult time, but understandably, they nagged me about when I’d get another job. This was also when I started feeling people pull away from me due to the layoff stigma (it is such a thing). In 2024, layoffs are almost more common than getting hired, but in 2014, I was one of the only people I knew who had experienced such a trauma. I would still get invited to events from time to time, and I remember walking into them with shame.
Remember how judgey everyone was about people who got COVID in the early stages? That’s how I felt. Every event or outing where I’d see professional peers, I felt like I had a huge mark on my forehead and everyone was looking at me. I’m sure they weren’t, but my insecurity ran deep. While there were certainly supportive people, I was surprised about how many people distanced themselves. For no reason other than I simply got laid off due to a company acquisition. It was so awful.
As time went on (the next two years!), I underwent the wildest wave of emotions. I landed some impressive freelance gigs (including Billboard), I experienced some fun moments, launched a music/LA blog I was proud of (even interviewed a then-18-year-old FINNEAS), and continued going to events. But nothing in my life was consistent. Freelance gigs weren’t consistent, my mental health wasn’t, the potential fate of my future certainly wasn’t. On some days I felt motivated and on top of the world; on others I could barely get out of bed. Everyone in 2014 was obsessed with Taylor Swift and the 1989 album. All I could associate with it was one of the worst, loneliest years of my life.
Come 2016, I was approached by a recruiter on LinkedIn who had a promising opportunity for me. There was a semi-established startup media company looking to hire a new team. This would be my first foray into the unknown. I’d only ever worked for major companies. But why not, I thought! They were paying me much more than I’d made previously, and I’d finally be working again.
What I didn’t realize is this would come with a whole new set of insecurities. So here I was employed again, getting invited to events… but I quickly realized the company bought all their followers on Instagram and no one really knew who they were. How do I walk into a room as a four-year People.com journalist to suddenly introducing myself as the so-called “Managing Editor” of a random startup that I deep down didn’t see growing?
I worked there for longer than I’d like to admit—and while I absolutely made the most of my time there (despite some very questionable occurrences), I often felt silly. I wore this company like a proud badge, because, I mean, it was a part of my then-identity. I truly gave it my all. But did I expect outsiders to take me that seriously? Not sure.
I distinctly remember one of my first events since getting hired. We went around the table at this intimate beauty dinner and everyone said they worked at Byrdie, PopSugar, the list goes on. And under my breath, shaking with nerves, I mentioned a company no one heard of. I felt like that often. It was the fact that nothing this company did made it look glossy or elevated. I’m all for a good startup project, but my god, can we see some growth? I hated having no control over that, despite knowing how much talent and credibility I had.
The major upside, however, was getting a chance to explore uncharted territory for me. I was used to covering celebrities, but now I was dipping my toes into beauty and lifestyle. It wasn’t all bad.
Full-Circle Reflection a Decade Later
In a blessing-in-disguise moment, I got laid off from said startup in Sept. 2020. They had already eliminated everyone’s salary by 35% on the first day of lockdown (so make what you will of that info). This layoff, however, was far less jarring than the previous. Even so, it sent me back into a state of finding my professional identity and stepping out of my comfort zone. I relaunched my blog, told my contacts, filed for unemployment and landed a fortunate recurring contributor gig with Mane Addicts.
I was getting invited to beauty-related Zooms with brands who’d worked with me at the startup, and once again, I’d sit there on the calls thinking everyone was looking at me like, what’s she doing on the call? As the pandemic loosened its regulations and we did in-person events again, I was so sick of having to introduce myself and namedrop a publication or two that I’d written maybe one article for. I felt that 2014 event anxiety all over again.
As time went on and I kept putting myself out there with whatever confidence I could muster, my situation grew. I began cultivating a serious, real network of people who were on board to help each other. I started picking up freelance gigs much more frequently, and was referred to people from trusted peers. I now walk into events with my head held high. Of course I belong here. Finally having platforms again to put my real journalism efforts to print have made me feel like the powerful writer I was 10 years ago. Except this time, I have a decade of wisdom and a whole new network of people under my belt.
If someone told me after I hung up the phone with my boss in 2014 that it would take a full decade to truly land back on my professional feet, I would have fainted. It’s so crazy to think about, but life isn’t linear. Friendships and relationships aren’t linear. Career certainly isn’t. A combination of highs and lows is inevitable. The biggest takeaway is accepting that everything ebbs and flows—and as long as you’re moving, you won’t stay stagnant in your situation. It may take ages to get somewhere, but it’s the journey that gave you the perspective and insight you have today.
Loved reading this proud of you Dahvis!