1999.

I truly believed I was part of something lasting. I worked hard, supported my manager, and built strong relationships with my colleagues. I carried myself with responsibility, certain that my future at AT&T was secure—long-term, stable. I even wrote a self-appraisal, reflecting proudly on my growth.

But life had other plans.

In the second week of December, the air shifted. The company made a sudden announcement: development work was being halted. Just like that. Whispers of layoffs spread, but none of it felt real. No explanations. No warnings. Only rumors, confusion, and disbelief. At first, I dismissed it—maybe it was just talk. Maybe even a malicious rumor.

But it wasn’t.

The terminations came fast. One by one, people were called in. Then it was my turn. My supervisor—the district manager—sat me down. He spoke kindly, acknowledging my dedication, my efforts. And then he handed me the pink slip. Just like that. I had no words. I sat in silence, trying to make sense of it.

He gave me a letter of recommendation—beautifully written, sincere, thoughtful. It praised my hard work, my integrity. I appreciated it, but my heart was heavy. I felt blindsided. Hurt. Hollow.

I stepped outside and called my wife. My voice shook as I told her.

“Stay cool,” she said, steady as always. “You’ll get a better job.”

She knew how much this would affect me—especially with my health. I was on life-sustaining medication, and the stress only made things worse. We had planned a Christmas party that year. Instead of sending out invitations, we found ourselves calling friends to share the news of my job loss.

I couldn’t bring myself to care about the party after that. But my wife—my incredible wife—took over. She made it happen anyway. She made it beautiful. She held everything together when I couldn’t.

“In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.”
— Proverbs 16:9