2 years, 4 months

In 2016, my very good friend Glenn Fernandez passed away suddenly. I will never forget getting on that Friday morning phone call with my boss and our department head (Chief Digital Officer). I had received a text at 8:23 AM from my boss saying, “Mike - give me a call when you have an opportunity,” and rather than wait around, I immediately called him. Michael answered me on speakerphone (a bad sign in my mind), in his office, and immediately said he needed to go and grab his boss, Barry—our Chief Digital Officer. At that point, I immediately thought I was being laid off. It had all the elements of a layoff: Friday morning… early morning… Michael and Barry on the phone… an unexplained, unannounced sudden meeting… I thought my time at Wyndham was over. Little did I know that the next few minutes would change my life forever and that I was entering a year that nearly broke me.

What followed next changed the course of my life. I don’t even remember the words they used to tell me about Glenn’s incident that had occurred the night before, but I do remember trying to hold back tears after I heard, “He didn’t make it.” I do remember saying, "He died?" which now seems like such a stupid question to ask after being told that he didn't make it. I was in utter shock and disbelief. My friend. My mentor. The person I had spent the most time with over the last four years was just suddenly gone. And yet, nearly ten years later, I still sit here and tear up as I write about the loss of my friend.

The Backstory

On February 2nd, which was fittingly Groundhog Day, I hit a mark that I never thought I'd see in my life — jobless for 2 years and 4 months. Why is that significant? Prior to starting his job at Wyndham, Glenn was out of work for that amount of time, but that's not something I knew until after his sudden passing in January 2016.

In a somewhat odd, almost cryptic way that only Glenn could pull off with a bit of posthumous humor, he had a white sheet of paper taped to the internal side of his office window's nameplate with just the words, "2 years 4 months." I can still remember asking him what it meant, and his response was something about telling me later. It wasn't until after he died that we found out from our former CMO, who was Glenn's good friend, what it meant.

I do know how hard that struggle was for him and was aware that he was out of work for a while, but I never realized that it was that long. Now that I'm in that same boat, plus some, I wish even more that he were here to lean on and learn from, though I am positive that he'd be absolutely disgusted by what has happened to the job market and the way in which people have to find work. It's demoralizing, inhumane, and feels like the odds of finding a job are the same as winning the Powerball.

Desperate Times

I hate the saying, "Desperate times call for desperate measures," and though many people don't necessarily mean what they say, their words hurt. This time since my layoff has changed me as a person, and it's not all for the better. I am much more empathetic and aware of other people's struggles and continue to focus on trying to help those who truly need it. At the same time, I'm more angry and have a lot of people in my network of friends and family whom I have no interest in maintaining relationships with. From those saying, "that sucks," to those who just expect us to continue to do things for them, I look at people completely differently now and have really come to realize how truly selfish (and clueless) people are. It's been an eye-opening experience, to say the least.

Lessons Learned

When I started this business, my goal was simple: build something that didn’t exist. Fully managed spirit wear stores that handled everything — design, setup, fulfillment, shipping — while also giving money back to each organization we partnered with. I invested upfront. I ordered samples. I designed full collections. I absorbed the risk. And I did it without formal contracts because I genuinely believed most people operate with integrity — that a handshake and a “yes, let’s do this” meant something.

After being personally asked — in a one-on-one conversation — to build a store for a local organization, I went all in. For over a week, I worked on it nonstop: designing products, building the storefront, ordering samples so they could see and feel the quality. I treated it like a confirmed partnership.

I sat on nearly $600 in samples — $600 that, at the time, absolutely crushed me. For some people, that might be “just business.” For a small business owner trying to build something from scratch while supporting a family, it’s not just money. It’s groceries. It’s utilities. It’s real.

Months later, I was casually told they had “changed their mind.” No conversation. No acknowledgment of the time. No recognition of the cost. Just… a shrug. I was frustrated — and yes, my response may have sounded combative — but what people don’t understand is that the frustration wasn’t about ego. It was about being blindsided. It was about assuming we were moving forward in good faith, only to learn that I had been the only one operating that way.

And then came the kicker: almost immediately after pulling out, I was told I “did not have permission” to use their logo and was asked to pay an invoice. That part still bothers me to this day, not because of the money — though $600 hurt — but because of the tone. The lack of empathy. The complete disconnect from what that loss meant to a small business owner trying to do something good.

That experience changed me. It forced me to protect myself. It taught me that good intentions are not contracts. And while it hardened my process, it never changed my mission, but I won’t pretend it didn’t leave a mark.

When Empathy Battles Anger

My level of empathy for others has increased 100-fold since October 2, 2023, but my level of anger toward certain people has also done the same. In years past, I cannot tell you how many people I've taken out to lunch after losing their jobs, how many resumes I've helped rewrite, or how many times I've checked in with someone just to see how they're doing. I never did those things for self-fulfillment or with the expectation that those people would one day return the favor, but man, I have to say that the silence from so many people is deafening. One former colleague, who had been at the receiving end of all the things I just mentioned, plus multiple job interviews, was someone I once considered a close friend, said nothing when learning about my layoff. Others have asked for my resume, which I quickly sent, but then have forgotten to share it with their contacts. Imagine dealing with this stuff for over 2 years. I don't think people understand what their lack of action does to a person who has to be overly hopeful each and every day. I fully acknowledge that an unemployed individual is always going to be in a rush to find work, but also acknowledge that those without jobs are no one else's priority, which, frankly, sucks.

My energy levels have also dropped. The thought of interviewing for jobs seems exhausting at this point because mentally, I'm shot. Not in a depressed, "down in the dumps" kind of way, but in a, "how could I fake being excited and energetic?" kind of way because all I do is apply to one job after another while trying to build a business and not be taken advantage of.

Starting Over

I was recently on an email chain from a former colleague, one of the few who has offered to help, but within the email, it was mentioned that I'd be willing to take a pay cut.

Here’s the thing: I understand that "beggars can't be choosers," but my God, do we have to include statements like that, as though I'm desperate and willing to sell myself to the lowest bidder? That, right there, is what's wrong with corporate America. With all these executives making millions of dollars and trying to pay their workers the least amount of money, how can anyone not be mad?