What followed wasn’t a send-off. It was a masterclass in how quickly loyalty can be overwritten—and how workplaces, no matter how familiar, can surprise you in the end.
I resigned at noon. By 7:30 that evening, I had checked out of the system—figuratively and, as I would soon learn, literally.
But my exit wasn’t smooth. One team lead was absent that day, and her signature was required to complete my clearance. I had no choice but to return the next morning to close the loop.
I didn’t expect what came next.
Unprecedented Conversations
Barely an hour after my resignation, senior leaders called in my teammates individually for private discussions. I watched through the glass door all afternoon as colleagues were summoned into a room. The conversations were still ongoing when I left the building late in the evening.
I understood what was happening: My resignation had rattled some nerves.
After all, this was a place where people rarely left. But change was coming. And apparently, the perceived fear was that more could follow me.
The next morning, I returned to complete the paperwork. While waiting for my head of department to sign off, I logged in from an empty terminal to read a story on a trade portal. A colleague had just pulled it up—it mentioned my move to an emerging player in the news space.
I keyed in my credentials.
“The user does not exist.”
It felt like a punch in the gut.
My access had been disabled. Overnight.
I hadn’t even been formally relieved yet.
Disbelief Before Understanding
At first, I was stunned. Disbelief flooded in.
How could a company I’d served nearly a decade cut me off?
I asked the IT colleague if it was a glitch.
He calmly replied: “No error. We were told to disable your login last night.”
Ouch.
I held on till I got the final signature from my HOD. Our conversation wasn’t pleasant—some things are better left unsaid. Driving out of the office parking lot, I couldn’t shake this deep, lingering question: Why would they do this?
Later, it dawned on me. It wasn’t personal.
The day before, I sent a goodbye email to everyone at my workplace. I thanked colleagues, shared memories, and wrote from the heart. Some responses were emotional, even overwhelming. A few wanted to know where I was headed.
And that’s where the worry set in.
My new destination was in the same industry. The leadership feared a possible chain reaction—maybe more exits—internal communication or intel could slip out. So, they acted swiftly, and in their view, necessarily.
I don’t blame them. But I learned a few things.
Workplaces, like people, behave very differently under threat. In times of high attrition or fear of competition, even those you’ve built years of goodwill with can act defensively. Loyalty is real, but so is business continuity.
And trust, once stretched thin, can snap in moments.
Bear in Mind
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Most exits are not about emotions—they’re about protection.
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Don’t be shocked when companies act in their interest. They always will.
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And here’s the one that stayed: Say your goodbyes in person or to the people who matter. A heartfelt chat over tea or coffee lasts longer than a mass email ever will.
Looking back, I carry no bitterness. Only gratitude—for the opportunities I got, the lessons I learnt, and the skills I picked up while there.
Bear in mind if you’re considering leaving your current workplace or whenever you do in the future: We’re all just passing through doors—some we close gently, others get slammed for us.
What matters is how we walk out.
About Me
I am a thinker at all times. I see, I think. I hear, I think. I read, I think. Every weekend I write. I would love to know what you think.