What Happens When You Get Laid off From Your Dream Job?

By Hannah Amundson

This article was originally written in November 2020.

I'm barely under 30, in a stable committed relationship, and childless. I had planned, at this time in my life, to be busting my ass to build a viable, upward tracking career to sustain me through the inevitable financial demands of the exciting next phases of my life - marriage, homeownership, a baby, the usual. I had laid out the roadmap, put in the work, and everything was going swimmingly until the coronavirus brought all those plans and my self-assuredness to a maddening halt 3 months ago.

I had momentarily forgotten the simple fact that jobs are like relationships, in the sense that you will either break up with or get dumped by ALL of them, until you eventually get tired and commit to one long term, for better or worse. Always a bit of a commitment phobe (I call it "having high standards"), I got dumped by my first job, broke up with my second job, and with my newfound jaded independence, decided to try out the Tinder of work arrangements: Freelancing.

Freelancing was great, and also terrible. I could work with whatever clients I wanted (within the limited pool of ones I could find through personal contacts and the internet). I could quit when things got heated (usually with a queue of open invoices), and only do the "important" and "high-level" parts of the job. (Although the full time employees will resent you for this, and therefore most of your ideas will never garner enough support to get to the launch phase). Eventually, you get tired of sleeping around. And as it always happens, this is the time that you find the first and last job worth committing to.

“I was committed - in it for the long haul, and I was using everything I had learned from my failed relationships and quarterly performance reviews to keep my head in the right place so that this one wouldn't go south.”

Just over two years ago, my dream job contacted ME, via a direct message on LinkedIn (shout out!) asking about my experience and freelance services. I met the company founder in her office - a tiny glass cubicle, bursting at the seams with tulle and silk dresses, in comically stark contrast to the minimalist tech start-up that was subleasing the space to her. To be honest I was not expecting anything to come out of this meeting, I had gotten a few of these LinkedIn requests and they all fizzled out quickly. But this founder seemed different. She was young, she was passionate, and within 10 minutes she had entrusted me with the future of all product development for her company. I still have no idea why she so confidently allowed me in. My track record from the past 6 months had been dragging around production cuts for contemporary and denim brands, and my previous bridal experience was as a pre-production coordinator (not a very creative job). The only way to justify it was instant chemistry and stars-aligned-perfect timing.

I was lovestruck. I left dizzy and in disbelief that I had just landed a gig DESIGNING and DEVELOPING wedding dresses, for a young, revolutionary start-up company that was trying to do things differently. As with my previous jobs/relationships, I was hopefully optimistic that things would work out, but braced myself for the more likely scenario. However, as time went on, my expectations were exceeded. Yes, it was sometimes messy and chaotic and back-breaking work, but I can genuinely say that there was not a SINGLE day that I wanted to quit.

Not when we were packing and shipping customer's dresses out of the owner's garage/my 2nd bedroom/a conference room in a co-working space. Not when I had to create 4,000 product SKU's, or when I had to commute to Rancho Cucamonga for a week because the Warehouse Management System at our new 3PL did not like said SKU's, and the entire inventory had to be physically inspected and re-labelled. Not when there were nine of us working in a 300 sq. ft. office exploding with dresses. And not even when all eight of my coworkers wanted to give their opinion during development fittings. 

I was committed - in it for the long haul, and I was using everything I had learned from my failed relationships and quarterly performance reviews to keep my head in the right place so that this one wouldn't go south.

So you can imagine the gut punch that was delivered when Covid-19 hit. Since I had put myself in this "succeed against all odds" mentality, I was truly incapable of grasping the fact that since 95% of weddings were being cancelled or postponed, that uncertainty could give rise to enough doubt to put even the most ambitious start-up on permanent ice. We had packed up everything we owned and put it in storage, all of my projects were put on pause, and yet I still hadn't been convinced. But the news of my layoff, delivered over video call, was an out-of-body-experience to hear verbalized - like the worst kind of break up, that you know is coming but has you holding out false hope that you were misreading all the signs.

“The hardest part to accept is that the coronavirus was the catalyst for where we ended up, not any of our personal faults or poor decisions".

I cried, a lot. It took six months to get to a place where I could even look at a job board without scowling. It still hurts me deeply to think about the fact that everything I worked so hard on for over two years was placed in a long-term storage unit, sold off, or thrown away. Mostly, I miss my coworkers. Some of whom inspire me with their ability to bounce back and move onto the next thing, and some of whom are in a position similar to mine.

I loved the company we created because it was idealistic, and had a vastly different management structure than anything I'd ever experienced. It was very ‘anti-fashion industry’, utilizing 21st Century methods that the founders should write a book on: mastering empathy, support, and accountability. I never thought of it as a "fashion company", quite the opposite. There were only two of us doing the day-to-day of planning, design, development and pre-production. It was otherwise treated as more of a round-table discussion among eight incredibly passionate and talented individuals, than a corporate hierarchy. It wasn't a perfect system, but I believed it had potential to develop into something better than the status quo. The hardest part to accept is that the coronavirus was the catalyst for where we ended up, not any of our personal faults or poor decisions. I know the statistics, that most start-ups don't last beyond 5 years, but it's not fair that our fate was forced by something so outside of our control.

“…but hopefully one day soon, timing and fate will remember their old friend and put me in the way of my next fated romance. ”

I've had break-ups that I've quickly bounced back from and I've had ones that still linger with unfinished business to this day. I'm assuming this one will fall into the latter category. I'm aware that being bitter and pessimistic are personality traits that literally no one wants in their future employees. And with the candidate pool larger than ever right now, I'm trying to give these feelings their space, and hope that time will soften their edges and give them some much needed perspective. It's a daily process, but hopefully one day soon, timing and fate will remember their old friend and put me in the way of my next fated romance.

Edited by Emma Golley

About The Author:

Hannah Amundson is a product developer, fit technician and supply chain manager. She studied at the Savannah College of Art and Design and later went on to work for the likes of Monique Lhuillier and Floravere. You can contact her via the link below.

Linkedin

You can share Hannah’s story on socials via the links below!

Like this article? Sign up to our new newsletter to get more articles like this delivered straight to your inbox once a month.