Parting Words

It began as a day of celebration. A live in person reunion at a midtown café attended by our entire team meeting up with our former boss for the first time since her sudden resignation weeks ago. Hot chocolate, cappuccino and Americanos graced our farm table along with quiches and croissant as we gathered for breakfast before heading to the office to commence the work day.

Suddenly, select devices ping with a summons to separate meetings with a senior executive this afternoon. Anxious speculation grips the group once it is discovered that three of five have been scheduled at consecutive half hours.

Mike needs a 1:1 with you this morning at 10:00am PT / 1:00p. Sending invite shortly. Thank you!!

I always knew the day would come. I just never imagined it would be so long before it did. After so many years with the company, I find myself at the threshold of a sobering new experience. One that countless colleagues have faced before me. One that many more will likely encounter in the seasons ahead.  

“We have been asked to take a look at our group…really examine what we’re doing…our resources …and how we can be more efficient. And unfortunately, as a result of the assessment, um, I’m eliminating your role and so we’re going to have to terminate your employment, uh, as of this Friday,” recites the President of the Division and Chief Marketing Officer carefully reading his scripted remarks.

It’s a gut punch that begins with the sight of an unexpected HR representative appearing in a Zoom box along with your superior on a hastily scheduled 1-on-1 meeting that turns out to be 2-on-1. It’s the windfall of praise for one’s years of dedication and professionalism, followed by the perfunctory outline of severance policy details too detailed to absorb at such a time. It’s the this-and-that and so many other things that run through your head while everything is hazy and crystal clear at the same time.

“I know this is hard to hear and, um, I really appreciate everything you’ve done. I know you’ve had a really long history with this company,” continues the CMO. “Um. This was not an easy decision to make and, uh, but I just, I, I, uh, I do truly appreciate everything that you’ve done for us and, uh, and so, um, you know it’s, it’s, uh, it’s, it’s, it’s a difficult call that we have to make here.”

Had it not been for the bitter rant heard from my Uncle Albert decades ago in the wake of his own dismissal cautioning me to never think that a company actually cares about you as a person, regardless of what they purport to the contrary, I might have been more surprised at this outcome in the wake of my three dozen years of exemplary service.

“Well, I, um, I just want to thank you. You’ve always been incredibly respectful and thoughtful and, um, and creative here and I just [unintelligible] so much and I really appreciate all that you’ve done and how supportive you’ve been of me so I thank you for that.”

The bold type is to underscore the weight of his emphasis on my most salient skill. That, along with my hand for writing, are both on bold display here as I chronicle this experience that is uniquely my own yet familiar to millions of other displaced workers.

“Thank you, uh. And I do appreciate your professionalism, Michael. I do. And so, Erika, I will turn it over to you….”

This writer struggles with endings. I take too long to say goodbye at parties. I’m often last to leave. Though I’ve managed to outwit, outplay and outlast every peer I began with at the local TV station and many at the Network, I am blindsided by my dismissal after more than 36 years with less than 48 hours before being banished and vanished.

Upon learning from the SVP of HR on a Wednesday afternoon the coming Friday will be my last, I can’t but feel this an inadequate ending to my narrative. I turn to my most fundamental tool to take note of this experience. I draft this essay that may never be read by anyone if I am to sign the papers provided on this day of my job elimination, a 33 page document to be resent every Wednesday for the next six weeks.

OMG! No. are you serious??? I am so so so sorry

I am stunned. You are a true professional and it has been wonderful to know you and work with you for so long

Thank you so much for everything. I’m just so heartbroken.

I wake the next day from a dream in which I attempt to conclude some unidentifiable work project while realizing my lame duck status. In the bleary zone between dreamland and real life, I flash back to my 26-year-old self commencing my CBS career at Channel 2 New York, never imagining the finish line I would eventually cross would be as a 62-year-old Network Vice President and Creative Director more than half my life later.

It’s always been a pleasure working with you over the years. Enjoy the time with your wife and embrace the next phase of your life. There’s a lot more to life than just work my friend.

I’m so incredibly sad, shocked and mad. You were the greatest co-worker and boss to have ever come into my life.

It's been an absolute joy working with you and I'm so thankful for your creative guidance and support over the past couple years. You will be so sorely missed.

I am surprisingly positive about embracing this opportunity to reset and reinvent, actions I would never have contemplated had I not been dismissed. If I look into Professor Marvel’s crystal ball as the tornado approaches Kansas, I like to imagine a future in which these events will someday be looked upon as the best thing that ever happened to me. Still, while the path from here to there is largely unknown, I can’t help but feel the threat of looming winds.

On the penultimate day of my decades-long career at the company originally known as the Columbia Broadcasting System, subsequently part of Westinghouse, Viacom, ViacomCBS and Paramount Global, I undertake my final task. Having read so many farewell emails over the years expressing the usual platitudes and the customary sign off providing personal contact details, the time has come to write mine.

From: michael pollack <mdpollack@cbs.com>
Sent: Friday, January 20, 2023 11:45 AM
To: Company-wide colleagues of past three decades
Subject: Re: Last call

Learned yesterday that tomorrow will be my final day at CBS. Alas, it’s been a fantastic long run. Truly a privilege to have worked on so many great projects with so many great people. Am grateful for more things than I can list, even as such unexpected farewell is tinged with a slightly bittersweet aftertaste. Wishing you well and hoping our paths may cross again.

The minutes, hours and days that follow yield a windfall of kindest notes imaginable from all corners of the company. As I read aloud touching words people send upon hearing, my wife observes it’s like being present at one’s own funeral.

Thank you for always being a kind and generous human.

working with you has been a highlight in my career

Sad day for us. Hopefully brighter days ahead. I’ve enjoyed working alongside you my friend.

Emails and texts from EVPs, SVPs, VPs, Directors, Producers, Managers and Assistants in various departments and divisions unfurl like a virtual eulogy. Plus this final email from the guy who laid me off, received the day after he informed me.

I wanted to reach out before you left the company.  I appreciate all you've done for CBS over the years and I have especially appreciated the passion and dedication you've brought to your role...and everything you've touched at CBS. I hope you know how much of a positive force you have been at this company, and that you will be missed. I can't thank you enough for all that you've contributed. 

Personally, your support and candor has meant a lot to me. I enjoyed our 1:1 conversations, as your insights were always well-intended, thoughtful, and helpful.  I wish you all the best and I do hope we can re-connect at some point.  

I truly wish you all the best in this next chapter in your life.

A count of most repeated words aggregated across scores of messages shows ‘working with you’ the top phrase, followed by ‘best wishes’ and ‘thank you.’ Among the more regretful: ‘sorry,’ ‘sad’ and ‘shocked’ lead. My favorites include ‘creative,’ ‘writer,’ ‘wordsmith,’ ‘kind’ and ‘human.’ Overall expressions of hope and positivity tally 561; expressions of disgust total 73.

Among the acts of closure to be addressed: cancelling all upcoming calendar invites and meetings, a liberating swath of deletes through Outlook. In the vacuum that follows, I contemplate the possibilities for activities that might fill the open time: take longer walks with dog, learn pickleball, consider yoga, take up golf, submit articles for AARP Magazine and essays to the Brown Alumni Monthly, work for the public library, aprender español.

‘Hi, are you ok?’ asks a future former colleague the day after I am informed of my termination.

‘Please let me know you are okay’ requests one laid off in a previous round of cuts.

‘How you feeling about everything?’ texts another.

The erasure of my CBS identity of 13,256 days in less than two, the shutdown of email, lack of closure with colleagues internal and outside, and inability to provide a forwarding email address or explanation that I no longer work at the company to any inquirers is demeaning.

Five days later, my brother asks if he has to throw out all his CBS merchandise amassed over decades of Super Bowls, Final Fours, Grammy Awards, Presidential Elections, Olympics and Late Show launches with David Letterman, Stephen Colbert and James Corden. I tell him no. He just shouldn’t expect any more.

A week later, after my longtime email address is deactivated, texts continue to flow to my personal phone.

How you doing?

Still balancing my reality with the unreality. That said, the challenge of extracting oneself and disconnecting in such a short time after such a long time is, well, a tad disproportionate. I get that this is now commonplace but it’s also degrading. Transferring ownership of my mobile number from company account to personal, a small detail disproportionately significant in far more corners of one’s digital life than can be imagined by an analog brain. Returning and replacing equipment: laptop, iPad, iPhone. It’s a full time job being laid off.

Nine days later, I make my final visit to the world headquarters of Paramount Global and text my former colleagues 44 stories above me while I stand outside the building at ground level. So close, yet so far. Made it to the lobby just now to return equipment but not an inch past Security Desk where I was met by a gentleman who relieved me of my laptop, tablet and phone to place in a secure lockbox over the weekend with the promise that they would be turned in to someone, though no one had any idea whatsoever who that might be. And that’s how this story ends.

The after-stories now begin. Untold tales shared among former colleagues, behind-the-scenes reflections on interminable hours at film shoots and studio sessions from New York to Los Angeles with Stephen Colbert, James Corden, Tom Selleck, Jeff Probst, Jim Nantz, Christine Baranski, Betty White, Henry Winkler, Patti Lupone, Mandy Patinkin, George Takei, Zsa Zsa Gabor and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer while tip-toeing carefully around Julianna Margulies, Don Johnson and Mark Harmon.

Working with every CBS News anchor since Walter: Dan, Bob, Katie, Jeff, Scott and Norah, not to mention all the morning hosts up until Gayle took the center seat. My closest encounter with the venerable Mr. Cronkite, however, was limited to entering the building just behind him in the revolving door and, on another occasion, riding the same elevator.

“Michael Pollack! What are you doing here?” hollers the CBS Sales SVP above the din of Pete’s Saloon filled to capacity on a Saturday night. He goes on to express his regret at hearing of my corporate fate and insists he would like to take me out for a drink one of these days. His overture is entirely sincere and deeply appreciated, even though we both know it will never materialize.

In flight and unconscious of my branded apparel, I am asked by the fellow passenger in adjacent window seat upon spotting my vest with network logo, “What do you do for CBS?” It’s the first time I am asked since I no longer ‘do’ for CBS. I take a beat to consider how to reply.

“Michael Pollack! What are you doing in Yonkers?” calls out a familiar face from the old office  upon overhearing me ask the clerk at Walgreens where I might find a particular sundry. After introducing me to her mother with whom she is shopping, she expresses her sorrow at the number of fellow longtime employees being cut and hopes she can hold on until retirement.

Other former colleagues weigh in with advice.

You should get a lawyer!

I’m surprised no one’s brought a case of age discrimination against the company.

It’s the way they go about this that’s so disheartening.

According to the federally mandated Older Workers Benefit Protection Act, employers must provide in writing the decisional unit from which employees were selected for layoffs. The chart accompanying my Separation Agreement shows 11 of the 15 selected are over 40, 10 are over 50, 9 over 55, and 6 over 60. Even a pair over 65.

After over 36 years of service to the company, giving you 48 hours to get out is disgraceful.

I find myself in the position of comforting others as they express their disdain for their employer.

Meanwhile, management makes a point of paying particular attention to employees’ mental health, providing a virtual bounty of apps including Calm, Thrive and Headspace. Senior Leadership regularly speaks of the importance of work/life balance at All Hands meetings. Webinars devoted to the topic dot Outlook calendars companywide. Emails herald World Mental Health Day while communications from Wellness 365 and The Ginger Team appear in inboxes with subject lines such as REGISTER NOW! HEALTH AND WELLNESS WEEK and REDUCE STRESS AND GET INSPIRED BY OUR EIGHT NEW RESETS.

Paradoxically, the protocols associated with job elimination abandon any such concern. At a time when those terminated may find themselves facing an existential crisis and need for support, the 48-hour gunshot fired upon being fired is a painful bullet to dodge.

Seven weeks later, in a card shop perusing the ‘Special Occasion’ section while seeking a bat mitzvah card for a cousin’s daughter, I come upon greetings celebrating retirement and wishing ‘good luck from work family.’ I am saddened by the discovery of Hallmark sentiments never to be received.  

The Writer still struggles to turn the page, even as he longs to begin a new chapter. He recognizes the need to move on and embrace what’s ahead, leave behind what’s behind. He wonders whether these notes will ever be shared with anyone. Who would even be interested?

In the end, the mere act of writing enables him to reflect, regroup, redirect. Sixty days after learning of his fate, he has encapsulated his experience and reached some form of closure. Robbed of the farewell he might have once hoped for, he concludes that these pages are his parting words.