January 22, 2023

Fungible Tokens

Many years ago, there was some belt-tightening during a downturn at the (large) company where I worked. My boss was recruited to help look for cost savings. Reviewing records for the cafeteria, he spied an outlier. “Oho, what's this? Why are we paying this guy so much?!” Um, that's the guy who makes the Eggs Benedict ... “Say no more.”

In the tech sector it seems that nearly every company “over-hired” during the height of the pandemic, and now they have buyer's remorse. Their regrets play out in jobs lost and lives upended—but not the jobs or lives of the people who miscaluated in the first place.

So what's a company to do? What does the company value?

Perhaps the easiest approach involves taking a hard look at the product portfolio, and dropping some. The associated jobs are no longer needed, so eliminating all of them is straightforward.

Or a company might start by apologizing and paring down the people who were over-hired.

Maybe it will focus on job performance, parting ways with people who don't measure up.

Whatever the approach, there will be a real, human toll.

Late last year, I spoke on a panel for our extended team about work-life balance. They're stressed under normal circumstances, and news about layoffs at other companies was spooking people.

I opened with a hard truth: The company pays you in return for the work you do; it doesn't owe you anything else. For many of us, it's easy to get our identities entangled with the work we're doing (speaking from experience); when you leave (voluntarily or not), the process can be gut-wrenching.

This being Silicon Valley, one can imagine another approach. The scale of the hiring and the laying off (tens of thousands of people) begs for a computational solution. (It's really just a math problem; no fancy generative AI needed.) Focus on how much money would be expended on each employee over some fixed period of time vs. how much money it would cost to send that person packing instead. Rank everyone accordingly. [Well, almost everyone. Leave the executives out of this.] Factor in protected class attributes (race, age, gender, etc.) to achieve a non-discriminatory balance. Crunch the numbers, draw a line, and in the wee hours of the morning, send a personalized form letter to every surplus person.

How efficient! How tidy! No need for uncomfortable face-to-face meetings. No need to witness anyone's distress.

Ah, well, I don't know how the sausage is made (as they say). I do know that, despite the hard truth I shared with my colleagues last year, it still stings to be cast aside.

And I also know that the company I joined on this very day, well over a decade ago, is but a treasured memory.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Pat. I stumbled on your blog many years ago when I rode in Low Key Hill Climbs. I followed all your posts since then. Mainly, I wanted to keep informed of area routes to explore. You have documented some roads that I wasn’t familiar with so your writing has been a good resource for me.

    Through that time, you’ve briefly touched on your work life. It was clear how much you loved your work and the company you worked for. So what a shock it was to read this. The way you reported it here was a bit oblique, so I wasn’t sure at first whether I was understanding it correctly. Of course your subsequent posts confirmed that you were part of the layoffs.

    We all know not to let our work fully define us. Yet, so much time, effort, and emotion is involved in that aspect of our lives that it forms the spine of our existence. Not just the actual work we perform, but the relationships we foster, and even just the way our daily life is scheduled around it. Of course anyone informed of a severance would feel adrift even in the best case (assuming it is a job we enjoyed), even though internally we would know that we are not actually lost.

    Being myself a senior (both in terms of number of years plying my trade and number of gray hairs) engineer working in the technology industry, I am well aware that my relationship with my employer is not a marriage, with its implied permanence. Every day is a date. Some are good and we are both enthusiastic about the next one. Some, not so much, but with our history with each other, we expect to work it through and have more to come. But at any point we know that each of us may realize that our partner is not the right one for us, an either of us can decide to move on.

    I could be glib and say I am envious of your freedom to hop on the bike and enjoy the mountain roads at the times when the motor traffic is absent. But that’s insensitive to the fact of the unplanned way you reached that state. Whether you are still feeling stung, or whether you feel over it, I am sorry to hear that the choice to leave your job was not made by you alone.

    What ever your next adventures are, I hope your path is winding, scenic, and inspirational. I’ll still be here reading about them.

    ReplyDelete