About seven years into my career, right after I turned 29, I got fired. This was more than a decade ago — yes, this is for you, my millennial friends. I didn’t see it as a gift at the time, but looking back, being let go turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Here’s how it all went down.
A few things made losing my job easier to handle. I was single with no kids, so I only had myself to worry about. My diet back then was classic bachelor fare — McDonald’s still showed up on the menu, and I even owned a few shares of Mickey D’s. I had a roommate, which helped a lot since I’d bought my first house just a year before. Mortgage, utilities, insurance — they add up, and having a paying roommate felt like a no-brainer for any young single homeowner.
Before the layoff I was pretty immature at work. I had moments of charm and competence, but emotionally I was all over the place. Feedback didn’t sit well with me. I thought I was smarter than everyone else, bosses included, and that kind of arrogance is a fast track to getting fired.
I remember one meeting where my boss and a colleague overruled me on a website-design decision in front of a client. I got so angry I walked out. Later, I rushed in to fix a failing application server. Instead of gratitude, my boss scolded me for not telling him sooner, and we got into a heated argument. Sure, he wasn’t a great manager — he was moved to an individual contributor role months before I left — but that didn’t excuse my behavior. Looking back, I was acting like a brat because I’d preferred the old “sitter.”
Then everything changed. Tragedy hit and the markets reacted. Recession and war were on the horizon. The company had to cut a lot of tech people. I remember the day the layoffs were announced: I went through the motions of a normal day, partly in denial and partly nervous. In hindsight I should’ve seen it coming — I’d spent the previous two months transferring my duties to an outside vendor. Duh.
I was the only one from our ten-person team called into the new manager’s office. He told me I could stay six more weeks and would get a severance equal to about three months’ pay. I sat there half in disbelief, oddly calm. My boss started crying — I told him to take it easy. I wasn’t married and didn’t have kids; I had a paying roommate. Things could have been a lot worse.
After the six weeks and a pity happy hour with coworkers, my routine changed. I got to sleep in — no alarm — and I used my gym membership during the day. Going to the gym at off-hours is great: no competing for machines. I even started going to a tanning salon because I’d already booked a cruise with friends before getting the notice. Going on a cruise right after being laid off felt weird, but I had the roommate to thank for helping cover expenses. We went cheap — four guys in a room — and had a ridiculous time, short-sheeting beds and trying not to pass out at lights-out.
A few weeks after the cruise, dumped and jobless, I did the math: no job, no girlfriend, practically zero net worth. Still, I didn’t spiral. I knew I needed changes. Getting laid off isn’t sustainable emotionally or financially, and growing up near the remnants of GM’s empire taught me that. But I believed things would work out, and I decided to use my free time to improve myself: work out, practice guitar, play tennis, be lazy when I wanted. It felt a little like an early retirement preview.
My first practical step was getting a home equity line of credit. My severance and unemployment wouldn’t last forever, and my roommate’s rent wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage. I made sure to secure the HELOC before my employment officially ended that November. I also got deep into GTL habits (thank you, Jersey Shore), but the biggest decision was to finish my MBA full-time.
Yeah, it sounds crazy: unemployed, stretched thin, and about to take on full-time tuition for three semesters. HELOC to the rescue. Even with a light class load, I had time to learn to cook — partly because dating was rough when I told a first date I wasn’t employed and watched the conversation die — and I figured cooking would be a useful skill later. The tennis serve? That was my hopeful secret weapon.
In the end, getting laid off forced me to face what mattered. I learned not to rely on “employment at will.” I learned people — and relationships — can change quickly, and you have to be ready. When I found a new job a month before graduation, I approached it with more humility and a constant, nagging fear of being let go again. I still struggled with taking feedback for a while, but over time I grew more patient, less ego-driven, and better at listening and resolving conflict.
This whole episode is part of why I now aim to retire early: not having to rely on a paycheck is a weight off. That weight has lightened since I started building toward early retirement a few years back.
Have you been through a layoff? In hindsight, was it a good thing for you too?