One year ago today, I joined an early morning call with our new CRO. Later that afternoon, the full sales team was scheduled to meet for a session titled “Q3 Plan.” I half-joked, “Maybe I’ll get a preview before the big reveal.”

It felt odd. Just six months earlier, I had been the one creating and rolling out our sales strategy. But as Q2 progressed, my involvement faded. Decisions were made without me. Plans were crafted without my input. I felt the shift happening, even if I couldn’t name it yet.

Still, we had just closed a phenomenal quarter. My team had crushed their number, and I was riding the high of a deal that came through at 8 p.m. on the final Friday. That close happened in real-time — emails, Teams messages, calls — all during my anniversary dinner. I spent the evening juggling celebration with stress, and the night ended with internal debates about whether the deal could even be booked. I was furious. The CRO was nowhere to be found when it mattered most.

By 10 a.m. on Monday, July 1, I was locked out of every system. For the first time in my adult life, I was unemployed.

And I was everything — confused, angry, sad, relieved, and terrified.

Confused
We had hit the number. Exceeded it. I had known the leadership dynamic was shifting, but I didn’t expect to be let go after delivering results.

Angry
I had given everything to that company. Early mornings, late nights, skipped vacations. My identity was tied to the job — to the people, to the mission. And in an instant, it felt like I was reduced to paperwork and PR.

Sad
I had built the team. Mentored them. Grown alongside them. I was invested — emotionally, professionally, personally. I poured everything into building something that felt meaningful.

Terrified
Scratch that — I was absolutely terrified. I had never been out of work, let alone “fired.” As the primary income earner for my family, the uncertainty was overwhelming. I had no idea what was next.

But time brings perspective. One of my superpowers is the ability to step outside of a moment and see the bigger picture. Intellectually, I understood it was a necessary business decision. Emotionally, it wrecked me. My ego took a hit, and the betrayal stung.

Still, a year later, the weight of that moment feels lighter.

I share this story because we don’t talk about this side of business enough. And we should.

That Monday morning wasn’t a fluke. It was a calculated, strategic decision — months in the making. And while I don’t harbor warm feelings for that former boss, I do understand the “why.” He needed someone in the role who was his person. Not someone loyal to a previous regime. Not someone who had a voice or perspective rooted in the past. He needed to build his own culture and team.

He played the game better than I did. Honestly, better than I ever want to.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

Business is Business

I’ve now sat on both sides of that HR table. I’ve had to make the hard calls — COVID furloughs, performance terminations, team realignments. It’s never easy, and it shouldn’t be. Leaders have a responsibility to make fact-based, future-focused decisions. Emotions can’t drive those choices — but empathy should still guide them.

But Business is Built on People

Companies don’t run without humans. And while a decision may be “right for the business,” it still deeply impacts people. Leaders carry the weight of those decisions — and they should. We owe it to our teams to think about how changes affect their lives, and to support them through it with real, actionable help — not just hollow “let me know how I can support you” statements.

People Matter

Within hours of being let go, I started calling my network. Some conversations were helpful. Others were simply cathartic. A few were purely fueled by curiosity. But many echoed the same sentiment: “Let me know how I can help.”

And while I’m sure they meant it, the truth is — when the call ended, they went back to their jobs. I went back to figuring out how to start over.

Still, there were a handful of people who really showed up — who made introductions, reviewed my resume, practiced interview questions with me, or just checked in regularly. Those are the people I’ll never forget.

So here’s my challenge to you: Don’t just say you want to help. Actually help. The job market is broken — on both sides — and it’s on all of us to be part of the fix.

One Year Later

I now work for a company I love, with a team I admire, solving problems that actually matter. I’m endlessly grateful for the people who poured into me — some when I asked, others when I didn’t even know I needed it.

Yes, business is business. But it’s people who make business run. So show up. Be kind. Give a damn. Do the work. Ask for help. Be coachable. Build relationships before you need them. And remember: success isn’t just hitting the number — it’s who you become along the way.