Happy Path

Ground Zero

I've thought a lot about how to describe the HR office space the day I was let go. First of all, this was the second time I'd been laid off by the company. The first time, a dozen years before, I was working for Discovery Channel Canada early in my promo producing career. I'd been hired along with three other people a mere two months earlier to help promote new digital channels. I felt like I'd made it! I had a respectable job in my field, doing something that felt like a really good fit. The four new producers were given business cards and desks and we all worked hard on the launch. We kept asking when we'd sign our contracts. In retrospect, it was obvious we were hired to be fired. I'm not sure when the decision was made, but my direct boss wasn't informed until the morning of dismissal that the four of us would be sent packing. But that felt totally different from this time around. The first lay off was done in the Discovery Channel Canada president's office with an HR rep present. The president, with his lop-sided toupee and wide eyes, looked more upset than the rest of us. I felt like a victim of circumstance and not a singled out loser. That time, I was back to work on another show within two months and returned to promo producing within two years.

I said earlier that I only told two people about my dismissal. There was actually a third person, a friend who worked for Discovery Channel as an executive assistant and always knew the scoop long before anyone else. I had to tell her because I needed to ask a question. In all their wisdom, HR invited me to be laid off in room A2. Now, I could deduce from the situation that the room was probably in the HR area. But even then, offices and departments were always moving around the big and ever-expanding building. Not to mention that no one ever went to HR in person. So I didn't actually know where to go to get fired. I emailed Natalie. I told her a friend wanted to know where to find A2, my attempt at lightening the mood. She comforted me digitally, and then confirmed the room was in the HR area and told me where to find it.

The majority of the office space at CTV was set up in an open concept. There were glass-fronted offices housing management, and a series of grouped cubicles with low walls for the worker ants. Mostly, you could look out across the work spaces and see people at their desks. It was common to confer with a neighbor or ask a stranger where so-and-so sits. The HR area is set up differently; it's closed off like an office unto itself. I understood why it was set up that way. HR deals in private conversations, confidential meetings and sensitive paperwork. I also think it's a protective measure meant to pen in an angry employee or keep them out, depending on the situation.

When I got to the door, I didn't realize the barrier I was about to cross. Upon opening the door, the first thing I noticed was the heat. It had to be five degrees hotter on the HR side of the office.* Next was the noise. If a space could be simultaneously loud and solemn, this was it. Cubicles filled the middle of the large room, and offices ringed the exterior. The front of each office had a sheet of paper taped to the glass: A1, A2, A3, A4...all the way up to A13. It was a makeshift layoff factory. Disheartened and shocked employee goes in at the appointed time, hang-dog former employee exits 15 minutes later with an envelope full of papers. Each room was either engaged in a meeting or transitioning between bad news sessions. The whole place smelled like fear and flop sweat.

I approached A2 and was greeted by a woman trying her best to convey condolences with her voice and furrowed brow. "Molly?"

"It smells like fear and failure in here."

Sad look. "Right this way."

As I'd predicted, there was an HR rep seated at the desk. She introduced herself and I could see she had my papers at the ready. In walked Bill. I wanted very, very badly to stomp on his foot. But Frank had beseeched me earlier, "Don't lose your cool. And call me tomorrow."