It's a mix of emotions when you leave a job for the great unknown. On the one hand, you spent five years of your life working for a company. You've gotten along great with your coworkers, and for the most part you enjoyed the work, which is all one can really ask for. You feel guilty for leaving, even, though events are out of your hands. You feel a strong loyalty for the company, and keep your online social life anonymous to protect your coworkers and employer from any possible negative perceptions - since although you don't write poorly of them, your online persona is not professional and could cause problems by association. You leave guilty because the work you have done is going to be put on your coworkers who you've relied on and helped in the past. They are your team.
On the other hand, there was little future at the company for you, and you worked under the constant fear that one of your coworkers will be leaving, never to be replaced and all that extra work will go on you without any compensation or hope that things will get better down the road. You leap into the great unknown feeling hopeful, good about whatever opportunities may come along.
Then, down the road, you decide to have a Web page put together, a creative portfolio where you can send potential employers rather than clog their inboxes with 11 gigabyte pdf files. You get the idea to put testimonials on the site, a few sentences from former colleagues and businesses you've worked with on a freelance basis. You've always been a supportive co-worker and felt comfortable conversing with your teammates. You send a request for such quotes. The photographer you worked with writes up wonderfully kind words, the writer who left for other pastures composes a glowing quote, the business you helped with brochure copy and a feature article positively croons for you.
Then you get an email from the writers you left behind.
"We talked to the boss, and now we are uncomfortable with having our names and the company listed on an open website as references/testimonials. If you want statements that would go to a specific person or company, let us know. Sorry from both of us."
Hey, think you could help pull out all these knives?
Initially, I was hurt and shocked that they wouldn't help me out, even considering the site would only be used for employers that request an online portfolio. I was angry at all the time I had spent consoling one of the writers who would weekly come to me for advice on a story or how to deal with the boss to the point I worried she would have a nervous breakdown. I was angry at the other writer who had been a good colleague and friend to share "war" stories with about reporting certain issues or dealing with certain organizations.
Then it dawned on me that they weren't the issue. I had already forgotten the culture of fear that had been used over the past few years, slowly getting worse with each week. They have become afraid for their jobs after seeing a half dozen others leave their positions never to be replaced, which only sends one message, everyone is expendable, and do not call attention to yourself. I had forgotten that I spent the last few years doing my best not to remind my boss that I worked there by quietly going about my work and getting everything done on time. It had slowly grown dark from the early days in the office, tone-wise. I used to leave my office and converse with my coworkers more often in the first few years of working there. But over time, I learned to keep my mouth shut, stay in my hole, and not risk sticking my head out for fear of having it declared unnecessary. I think the writers in the office felt this in their bones more than the designers and other creative talent. The writers were never replaced.
In the end, the rejection for a simple quote hurt, but it also reminded me how lucky I am to have moved away from such an environment, where the very air can leech away your happiness.
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