I've explained (ad nauseam) how this outsourcing feels with this analogy: I feel like the first wife who worked two jobs to put her husband through law school, only to get dumped for a younger, hotter woman when he started making real money. For most of the time I’ve been at this company, money has been extremely tight. We practically had to get a vice-president’s signature to get new post-it notes, and scammed pens and stapler refills out of departed co-workers’ desks. Travel was extremely limited, there was no training, matching on 401Ks was suspended, etc. Several large waves of layoffs swept through, and each time I updated my resume and tried to formulate a Plan B.
Now here we are in the black again. One would think it would be time to exhale. Our reputation is up, our profits are up, our leadership is well-respected inside and outside the company, bonuses are being paid, hiring numbers have skyrocketed…and that’s when they decide to dump the whole lot of us. It’s a little difficult to explain to your friends and family. “But I thought Company X is doing great!” Consequently, this situation has been more painful than it would have been during hard times. After all I’ve done for you? I keep thinking. I’ve had a while to get used to the idea, since I’ve figured out they were outsourcing us a year ago. But there was always the dangling carrot out there – It’s not been decided yet; we may just outsource a portion of the process – that kept us working, thinking we’d be the indispensable part they kept.
Lest this be my own selfish lament, let me share with you, as a public service, the red flags that were snapping in the cold wind of the corporate air conditioning.
1. After years of headcount cuts and insane micro-management of budgets, we suddenly gained a few extra people on our org chart. They just showed up. Never mind that they had no discernible skills or interests related to our function, and were very close to retirement. When we pressed for explanation, we were told one was “really good with strategy” and another was “experienced with IT projects”. Perhaps they were here to help us transform ourselves around our new IT system? Unlikely.
2. We were asked document everything to death. In the midst of a particularly frenetic part of our annual cycle, completing flow charts and work processes took precedent over our main responsibilities.
3. People who had been trying to move out of the department for (literally) years were almost evacuated simultaneously to new assignments elsewhere in the company. One moved in two days. In the glacial-paced world of a huge company, it’s usually more like six weeks from the time the announcement is made until the move is final.
4. As people moved out of the department, the remaining suckers were shoved, willy-nilly, into the vacancies, regardless of desire, experience, or skill set. Thus we had six people in the same position, with the same title, at four or five different salary levels and classifications. For example, a full time management-level employee, a part-time no-benefits employee, a full time non-management level employee, and a full time no-benefits employee were all doing the same job, with a salary differential of about $70K. Not to mention some got paid holidays, vacations and bonuses and some didn’t. A highly flammable situation like that had to be temporary. If you count over a year as “temporary”, then yes, it was.
5. During meetings to choose a new IT system, one of the mysterious new additions to our group, who was supposed to be leading the project, kept wandering out of the room to take phone calls, didn’t take any notes, and would often dismiss people’s questions and concerns. Once, I made a remark about a feature of the new system and he said, “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to blow this whole thing up anyway.”
6. The new buzzword became “core competencies”. Our department’s raison d’être was not on the list of core competencies. People trying to transfer out of our group suddenly found themselves stuck, because they hadn’t worked in a “core” area in several years. To get back to the “core” and out of our group, they would have to pass an assessment.
7. And of course, the most obvious red flag: there were lots of meetings with closed doors.
These, of course, were just the hints that our function was being outsourced. Once that was confirmed, there were a few months where we were waiting to see which, if any, individual jobs would remain to facilitate between the vendor and the rest of the company. For your edification, here are some strong indicators I picked up on that let me know I was not going to be part of the glorious new republic.
1. I was asked to train the admin of the larger organization to take on my IT-related duties. For many years, I had (by default) managed access to our systems and shared drives. Since I was one of the only people left who understood the system, being asked to train someone completely unfamiliar with our processes and baffled to boot was a huge clue.
2. I was in a meeting where “Phase One” of our outsourcing would include the role I was filling. It was hastily explained that they weren’t sure if the vendor would take it completely or they’d need an in-company liaison, but come on.
3. The governing branch of our larger organization started avoiding me. Previously friendly and chatty people seemed a little uncomfortable, as if trying to figure out how much I knew.
4. I was randomly chosen to participate in a national television show as a representative of my company. I had a “speaking part” and felt I did well. The next day I heard from a lot of co-workers and former colleagues from throughout the company. However, the managers in my own department barely acknowledged my participation – no questions, no pat on the back, no joking around. Hmm, I thought. That is quite odd.
5. Instead of filling positions as people transferred out and moved on, they brought back retirees to fill in.
So it’s been a painful process that’s gone on for over a year now. It’s like ripping off a band-aid terribly slowly. I keep asking for an end date, so I can focus on when this will be over. I’ve been told they’re not sure, because they can’t do anything that would “compromise the mission”. The original ball-park end date has come and gone, and I’m still dragging myself to work each day, knowing that nothing I do is important or meaningful or appreciated. I’m just filler. To make matters worse…no, I’ll save that for another day. It’s a long story.
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