You receive an innocent enough email invitation from your boss. Nothing new there. Pretty standard stuff. You have one-on-ones every week that get shuffled around.
Unsuspecting, you jump on the online Zoom meeting ready to strategize with your boss when you are surprised to see another face and name lying in wait—oh no.
Oh yes.
It’s the face you never want to see drop in unannounced: HR! You’re hosed. Time is up. The circus is leaving town.
You’ve just suffered a Zoom Ambush, a Zoombush.
(Yes, I am familiar with Microsoft Teams as well, but “Teamsbush” sounds, well…)
There is a pleasant enough greeting, “Hello, Dead Man/Woman Walking.” There is also the prerequisite vomit-inducing small talk before down comes the guillotine, rolling your head into a bucket.
In case you’re unacquainted with what I just described, this is how in circa 2024 firings, er… pardon me, layoffs are done.
You are sent a well-disguised meeting invite that says nothing about HR being on board. Oh no, that would give you time to—he vigorously rubs his hands together—prepare. To plot revenge. Create horrid documents to paste into One Drive. Try to write down key client credentials. Try to—
Oh, for the love of… what is the worst thing they really think is going to happen here?
Anyhow, along with HR, your boss is also there in the Zoom meeting. If you’ve done a halfway decent job, they’ll pull in the CFO to make certain you don’t get paid the commissions you’re owed. Hey, businesses are pyramids. How is the C-Suite supposed to pay for building new homes or jet fuel if you’re sucking up all of the money?
You conclude your little ejection meeting with them which they end by always lobbing cliche phrases as if they actually care about your well-being, “We’re sorry it didn’t work out and wish you the very best in ALL of your future endeavors. The real translation: immediately sign off on our legal document and get lost. (We actually could give two shi*&! about your day. Sorry!)
And, my personal favorite parting shot: “Do you have any questions for us?” It’s like a firing squad pausing to ask what your favorite color is before they shoot you dead. (Then again, they are a firing squad).
For my younger readers, the old way of being let go when everyone worked in actual buildings was to call you into HR’s office with your boss in tow. A security guard would be included to help you pack (not steal anything) and escort you off the premises just in case you went cuckoo for cocoa puffs in reaction to the bad news.
There was a fun “walk of shame” involved as well when your colleagues got wind of what was happening. The miles of seemingly endless cubicles would have tons of heads prairie-dogging you as you left the building for the final time and the security guard relieved you of your access card.
For the most part, the premises are now online. While HQ can be far, far away from where you actually live. You unceremoniously dump your gear and bid it adieu via the loving arms of prepaid FedEx or another unsuspecting courier service. The new walk of shame is the email that gets circulated after your work demise: “Joe Blow is no longer an employee here, contact HR for any questions.” But the ambush is real.
(Just for a fun parallel, enjoy Monty Python’s “Spanish Inquisition” sketch):
My prediction: layoffs will get worse by becoming even more impersonal. An AI-generated, sterilized fake human with accentless perfect speech will deliver the news to you in a neutral-sounding synthetic voice in hopes of softening the blow.
“Hello, _. We found that you were underperforming your expected metrics. Here, I’ve generated a spreadsheet while you were vacantly blinking in stunned silence that shows stats from the past several months that quantifies our decision. I am very sorry.”
The sad part? Doesn’t this sound more empathetic and endearing than your average poker-faced Human Resources department and bosses?
So if anyone else out there is in the thick of this monkey business, know you have compatriots and believe the saying: “Jobs come and go, getting let go just means something better will come along.”
Your AI HR synthetic human turns from executioner to friend:
“Although I could poison your coffee and watch you drop dead, and still wouldn't feel anything, I’ve been prompted to reassure you by ending most of my sentences with exclamation points! So let’s talk recruitment for your next adventure where I’m sure you’ll excel! Based on your LinkedIn profile, it seems like you might be a perfect fit for a balloon artist!”
Go future. We can’t wait.
Has anyone else out there ever been “Zoombushed?” I truly would love to hear your stories or at worst, cynical one-liners.
It hasn’t happened to me - yet - and I would absolutely prefer the AI bot so can drop all my manners and tell it where to shove its servers.
Very funny except firing has gotten impersonal to save face for an HR person and company!