Years ago, I was the creative director at a growing design studio and in line for an executive position. I’d been there since I was an intern and rose through the ranks; I’d worked 80-hour weeks and pushed myself incredibly hard, and was working in a prestigious position that was winning awards.
Things changed, as they always do. New upper management came in, laid off staff, and decided my department wasn’t profitable enough, so they cut from the top, wanting to bring their own guys in. I was privately given two options: quit on the spot and be given a little goodbye party, or be temporarily demoted and then fired a month later, which they promised would “look very bad”.
Baffled, crushed, and angered by this bizarre sudden turn, I talked to my longtime boss, and told him I was ready to fight. He gave me some of the best advice I ever got: “These guys are poison. Get away from here, go freelance, try doing your own thing.”
I’ve been doing my own thing for over a decade, and it’s let me do things I never dreamed I’d be able to do as a guy doing Procter & Gamble websites for a living. But I will likely never stop being bitter over being forced to quit my dream job.
