The Myth About Severance Packages
One February about a dozen years ago, I joined a small out-of-state software company as one of about 25 remote employees in a multi-hundred-person company. Things went well for the rest of the year as we strove to figure out how to make remote work more effective.
Wednesday morning of the first working week the following Christmas, I received two portentous emails. The first: an announcement that someone was buying us out. A second email, addressed to all remote employees, told us to be on a conference call at 9am. Uh oh.
(The company buying us out revealed themselves as total scumbags, both immediately and over time in many ways. I’m forgetting their name, so I’ll just refer to them as TotalScum.)
Our 9am phone call with the TotalScum representative was brief: “My name is Dick Jones. I’m a VP at TotalScum. We just bought you out. Unfortunately for you, TotalScum doesn’t believe in remote workers. You’re all fired. Thank you for your work; someone will be in touch with you about the severance details. Goodbye.” Not quite verbatim, but that was about all the information he oozed before hanging up.
TotalScum was either too cowardly, too cheap, or both, to do the right thing. They were obligated to break potentially devastating news to twenty-five folks, something that demands private discussions if you have any class and decency whatsoever. Making 25 such phone calls might have taken the better part of a day for Dick or his human stand-in. Instead, they chose the efficiency of a 3-minute call to cover everyone in one fell swoop. “Woo hoo, we’re already onto the money-making side of this takeover, and the day’s just started!”
Like the myth that human resources (HR) is there for your benefit, the myth about severance money is that it exists to help you transition out of a difficult time while you scramble to find income. (And it’s almost always “scramble,” because they’ll almost never tell you ahead of time, even though they’ve known for months what they were going to do.)
Take the money, shut your mouth
Severance money is hush money. It exists for many of the same reasons your human resources department does: to protect the company from lawsuits, bad press, and its own employees’ actions. The very contract you sign when offered a severance package makes these facts clear. Generally, you cannot mention any details from the contract. Actually, you can’t even admit you even received a severance package.
Here’s sample severance agreement verbiage, adapted from a site that offers free legalese templates:
“Employee shall keep the existence and terms of this severance agreement completely confidential (aside from conversations with tax preparers). Employee agrees that he or she will not make negative statements concerning Employer or its agents.”
Some folks have only finished a modest tenure with the company terminating them. These firees are a little more fortunate than others. Why? First, because layoffs are usually a failure of leadership. The less time spent beneath such leaders, the better. Second, the severance package is likely negligible, meaning some people can feel more empowered to walk away from it.
Imagine: The courage to speak up
Imagine you are getting laid off, unexpectedly. (I hope you never do.)
You’ll likely work through some bitterness. You’ll want to talk to friends and professional colleagues and warn them away. A dozen years later, I still harbor mild resentment when the topic comes up — not so much for my specific circumstance (I recovered just fine and quickly) — but of companies who treat their employees poorly.
If offered, you’ll probably want to take the severance money. I’ll warn you, however, that you might regret that choice. If you take the money, you may wish you’d retained your right to speak up and out.
Imagine, for a moment, that I took an imaginary severance from TotalScum (I wouldn’t be allowed to say so if I did). Family obligations made us feel we needed the money at the time, but in the scheme of things, the package for a sub-one-year tenure would have been a near-negligible amount. I’d wish, if offered that imaginary severance package, that I’d turned it down. My conscience would be clearer had I spoken out then and still today, to warn others away.
With your imaginary layoff, it’s possible that you like your company, and feel they are honorable and did the best they could. You have my sympathies for the circumstance, in any case. Take the money and enjoy or at least appreciate it.
Otherwise: If you work in a competitive industry like I do (software development), one that pays well, there’s no reason to tolerate abusive companies, and we should shout them out. Jobs abound. Sock away a chunk of each paycheck toward a “severance hedge fund” so you won’t feel too bad about the money you are passing up.
The more people we can warn away from a scumbag company, the better a place the world becomes. Don’t sign away so quickly your right to speak freely.
