They say work is transactional by design. You sign a contract under which you get paid by your employer for services rendered over a period of time, and when this arrangement stops working for employer or employee, you shake hands and part ways. It is an impermanent relationship built on mutual distrust: the company treats people as costs that get in the way of shareholder value, and people treat the company as a stepping stone on the way to a better offer.  

I think it’s a good thing real life doesn’t work that way.  

Whether we like it or not, we spend an inordinate amount of time at work, worrying about it, and obsessing over it. Today, it has expanded into all aspects of our lives, to the extent that the workplace and its informal extensions act as a proxy for the third place we yearn for.

Think about it: If work were really as contractual as people claim it to be, why do companies invest so much time and energy in culture? If work really were a purely transactional relationship, what are colleagues bonding over at bars until the early hours of the next morning? If employees were truly mercenary, why do individuals seek so much validation from their work?  

The cold, contractual nature of work and the warm, humane nature of workplace relationships are at constant odds with each other, and nowhere does this become more evident than in the event of an employee’s exit. And if you’re taking a break instead of chasing the greener pastures of a new job, the interlude between jobs is the first time in a very long time that you’re stepping away from the familiar routine of work and the validation and identity it gives you. This conflict between careers, the workplace, and the self is what I wanted to explore in the fourth volume of Humanise. 

First, we explore the circumstances leading up to an exit. Here, the decision is made by either party.

Abha writes about what happens when the decision is made by the employer in The Postmortem of a Layoff. Written with an incisive, investigative hand, this piece explores the event of a corporate layoff as the burden is passed down the chain, from the people who decide, to the people who execute, to the people who are impacted. Saaquib, on the other hand, explores an employee's frame of mind when they decide to move on. Influenced by ‘push and pull’ factors, an employee’s shuffling feet can be heard a good six months in advance, and companies need to wise up early if they want to make a retention pitch.  

In Try Not To Burn Bridges, Sameera appeals for good sense (and faith) to prevail as she makes a case for <> breakups. Three reasons: the world is small; there is always more to the story; it doesn't hurt to be nice.

Lavanya writes about the dent a sabbatical makes in your confidence and ability to pamper/spend on yourself despite all the best-laid plans. Turns out the enemy during a sabbatical isn’t your bank balance, but your own mind. In that context, it was very interesting to learn about Ankit, who’s been on a career break for so long that he can’t imagine a different world. In <>, he gives us a ringside seat into his mind and how he chooses to revel in the autonomy of a lifestyle unencumbered by the expectations of a corporate overlord. 

My only takeaway from this subject and my conversations with these incredible writers is this: associate your identity with your skills, and not your job. For jobs end; titles can be stripped away; careers are non-linear – the only constants in your life are your skills and your ability to hone them. Because together they form the one defensible thing you can call your own.

Everything else, no matter how distracting and worrying, is noise.