Off-Boarding

Off-Boarding Rituals

This isn’t the first time Jesus has removed me from a job. The first time was in 2018—and I am inclined to think that Jesus was that Jesus. The 2nd Time? It was a guy named Jesus, hired as CRO just a few weeks after I came onboard. As he began to articulate the next sales “motion,” it became clear I (or at least my role) was no longer needed. And just like that—30 days in—I was shit canned.

So I did what came naturally… I took all the on-boarding swag I was given during and off-boarded them into my Solo Stove.

A friend once told me,“Tell your story or others will tell it for you.” That’s part of why I’m writing this. It helps me make sense of what just happened. It’s cathartic. Writing lets me look back, draw meaning, and figure out how to live right now.

Apparently, I was just the unlucky casualty of a restructure. Nothing I did wrong. Just one of “them things.” And yet it wrecked my psyche more than I expected.

I’m always surprised by what surfaces in times like this. In my most recent turn of events, Bon Iver’s Skinny Love would not stop playing in my head. it looped. Woudn’’t stop. So I tuned my guitar down and started playing it—over and over.

Tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My my my, my my my, my my
Right in this moment, this order's tall

And now all your love is wasted
And then who the hell was I?
And I'm breaking at the breaches
And at the end of all your lines

Prior to my expedited on/off-boarding, I’d left a good job with a good company. Then without warning, someone “cut out all the ropes and let me fall.” The most difficult piece has been trying to cut out the negative feedback loops screaming at me from the inside. Just who the hell do I think I am?

Apparently, just a “motion” that is no longer needed.

The swirl of missteps, wrong turns and unfortunate events of my past feel like a current I cannot swim against. “Water always wins,” my brother once told me, referring to a drainage problem at my house. And lately? Life feels like that water—relentless.

I want to fight back. I want something to hit. To curse the day of my birth. Maybe even off-board something more substantive than a damn shirt and water bottle.

But—against my shadow’s judgment—I still have these (inconvenient) values that tether me to human decency and beauty.

One of those values is honor.

And it is worth noting that the CEO, Jindou, gave me a call shortly after I got the news. I was (ironically) happy afterwards. He didn’t owe me anything, but he initiated. Jindou was genuine, humble and gracious—and for that I am grateful. He acknowledged that the situation sucked. No spin. Just reality. And he offered to do what good he could on my behalf.

Off-Board-ED

There are plenty of things I’d like to say to Jesus… (again not that Jesus). The other Jesus recently wrote about “The Importance of Empathy in Leadership.” Needless to say, in our grand total of 27 minutes of conversation (two of which were spent bonding over our shared joy of off-boarding), I didn’t experience much empathy. Or consideration. But here’s the thing—I don’t fault him for the decision. He’s new. He has a vision. And vision requires hard calls. That’s the burden of leadership: making organizational decisions that ripple into the lives of actual humans. Sometimes those ripples are more personal and come at us like waves.

Another (stupid) value that’s been anchoring me lately is gratitude.

Not long ago, I helped lead a CrossFit Hero WOD for a family that lost their 18-month-old son last year. This year, we gathered at the gym to move in his honor—to remember the joy of carrying our loved ones, and the ache of carrying their absence.

My kids are healthy. My wife is healthy. I’m reminded—who the hell am I to complain about something as trivial as being fired after 30 days?

How much did they pay you to give up on your dreams?

George Clooney’s portrayal of Ryan Bingham in Up in the Air was sharp and brilliant. And one point, while firing “Bob” (JK Simmons), he asks, “How much did they pay you to give up on your dreams?” And perhaps that is why I am writing. Not for you, not for my family, but for myself. Perhaps that Jesus (or the Universe, or life itself) is giving me a shot at resurrecting some old dreams from the ashes. For about 5 years now, I’ve felt a pull to use my “very particular skills” (shout out Liam Neeson in Taken) and put them to use to help others. Turns out, I’m actually pretty good at it. Specifically, helping people integrate the physical, relational, and vocational pieces of their life into something whole. Something that holds when water—when life—starts to win.

Good. At least this is out there for the Universe (or that Jesus) to see. At least a first step. Time to get up, dust off and re-engage.