To say a lot has happened at work is an understatement. Betty was put on a 90-day performance improvement plan.

A performance improvement plan is what happens when you’re failing. You get 90 days to prove we were wrong about you, by producing specific measurable results during those 3 months.

For her, they were initiatives she was supposed to complete a year ago. As if by magic, she was suddenly able to complete them. 🪄

One of those things was a department audit for the department I led. She finally had someone come in and perform the audit and it was a success. The gal who did it told us our work was some of the best she’d seen, and our measurable results were above industry average. My two teammates and I were proud. We’d been fine tuning it for years and it was nice to have that validation from a neutral, unbiased party.

Our department had always flown under the radar. Josh once said to me during a 1:1 that I was like the good kid. He said he spent so much of his time pouring onto other leaders who needed guidance or feedback that he hardly ever worked with me. He reassured me that the silence was a good thing. It meant a lot to me because it’s true; for years, I worked hard and got zero feedback. His reassurance was a breath of fresh air.

Despite the emotional turmoil of the issue at hand, making our department better and seeing measurable results filled my cup. We took pride in what we built.

Then, 3 weeks before Betty’s 90-day period was up, she sent me an email.

She asked to meet with me the following morning, an hour before our weekly company meeting.

I hopped on a Zoom that next morning.

She nervously turned to a script and started reading a termination speech.

Within a 30-minute period, me and my two other teammates in my department were let go.

Betty got to report a big win right before the end of her 90 days. Mission accomplished in the messiest, most costly way.

The weird part?

This huge thing happened.

My job was an enormous part of my identity.

I had mourned the loss of this chapter all year as I mentally prepared to leave.

Yet, when it happened, a weight was lifted.

Ever since Betty showed me who she is, I had been so unhappy. I've always been sensitive to people's energy, and I could FEEL, and was affected by her energy in the room. It was hard to ignore her ill-intentioned subtle cues too, like when she decided to tell me in a 1:1, a week before firing me, that we finally had the right team in place, then she paused and added,

“Well, more like 80%.”

(for reference, the three of us = about 20%)

Every time I started making plans to leave, I talked myself out of it. My mental health declined. I was sad on Sundays. On weekday mornings I started meditating in bed, to prepare myself for working with Betty. I thought, if I do MORE, think of ways to elevate our department, find opportunities to produce greater results, all the while manage my energy, the other stuff won’t matter. I just have to ignore her inappropriate cues and behavior, and work harder.

You’d think I would grasp that these painful things were the universe telling me to R-U-N. Instead, I mourned the idea of that loss for about a year, but stayed. By the time the layoffs happened, I was all out of tears.

When I told my sister about it all, she said that it’s like they pulled the rug from under me. I found that to be quite accurate. They pulled the rug from under me because I refused to do it myself.

I’ll miss doing life with several teammates whom I call friends. I hope the team WINS.

As for Betty…
My words mean nothing and neither do hers.
Intentions trump everything.
Good fucking luck.

As for Josh…

I hope he’s happy and at peace.

There's so much to say regarding Josh, but I’m just gonna leave it there and call it a day.

In retrospect, it was all just one big fat lesson.

How many times have you found yourself at a job that once served you, but it no longer does. For whatever reason, it isn’t working anymore. You might have even tried to fix it, but it didn’t help and you’re still there. Your integrity keeps trying to hold you accountable but you justify not leaving. As Iyanla Vanzant eloquently said,

“There is no greater battle in life than the battle between the part of you that wants to be healed and the parts of you that are comfortable remaining broken.”

This place leveled me up…back then.

It equipped me with greater grit, courage, and resolve…back then.

Years ago.

By being courageous and bringing light to misbehavior, only to be dismissed but stay anyway, I disrespected myself. Let me spare you all the examples. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

This is a story about being your greatest advocate.

It's about having the balls to face the brutal reality in order to stand in your truth, even if every single person around you is looking the other way. It’s an invitation to speak up and say the things no one else will touch with a 10-foot pole; even if you lose credibility for it. It seems counterintuitive when speaking up has led to a negative or unkind response…but no.

There’s power in standing in your truth. It not only makes you more courageous and confident, but it shows you who the people around you truly are; because saying and doing all the right things–people-pleasing–won’t show who people really are.

Telling a person something that is inconvenient to hear will show you exactly who they are.

I read something somewhere that said...you’re not worth anything if you’re not in the right place. If you’re not appreciated, don’t let it anger you; it simply means you’re in the wrong place.

Are you at a job or relationship where you aren’t appreciated? Maybe you thought about it for a year like I did, but you haven’t taken action. You’ve justified staying and the reasons seem quite reasonable…but deep down you can’t bullshit yourself. You’re waiting for things to change.

If this is you, I’m telling you from experience that there’s an important reason for it.

Feeling deeply unappreciated. Pouring into something that isn’t seen. Those things are communication. If something feels off to you, it probably is. Be kind to yourself; don’t just wait for change.

I’m proud of my courage and my integrity, my resilience and strength.

I have faith in this thing that happened for me, rather than to me.

Bring on the next chapter.

Leaders: be better than that. ☝️

It doesn’t matter how much good you did back then; when you cross a line and choose not to take responsibility, you will lose a person. It will become the lasting impression.

-KARLA