Neutered Ambition
Corporate Life Lessons from My French Bulldogs
Every week, it seems I read about another round of massive layoffs taking the form of employee buyouts. Beyond Elon and the DOGE boys’ attempt to push millions of long-time government workers out the door, big corporations like Google, UnitedHealthcare, and even the New York Jets are cutting—let’s be honest—older workers from their payrolls via severance packages that tie compensation to years of service. As a middle-aged person, I hate that this is happening, but I understand the logic for reasons I have seen play out recently in my home.
Last fall, our family adopted a second French bulldog.[1] Like Colonel, his 11-year-old “brother,” young Theo arrived with the breed’s goofy personality, sinus issues, and toxic flatulence. Despite their similarities, the dogs’ respective levels of enthusiasm demonstrate why companies often dump their more seasoned staff.
Theo is an unbridled youngster with a non-stop nuzzling, rump-shaking, and rub-my-belly desire to delight. His earnestness is cute to the point of being irritating. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make us happy.
Colonel, on the other hand, has the energy of a dude who’s been working at the Post Office for 40 years. Though he’s still affectionate, he’s not going out of his way to earn our approval because he has been around the block and possesses wisdom Theo can’t even imagine. Among other things, Colonel knows that in the very near future we are going to cut the puppy’s balls off.
Yes, he still snuggles with us and barks to protect us, but Colonel has not forgotten that, a few years back, we—the people to whom he had dedicated his life—literally removed his nuts. Okay, we didn’t perform the procedure. However, we 100% willed it to happen through the magic of agency, outsourcing, and cold-hearted credit cards. Then, as if that weren’t sufficiently degrading, we made him wear a humiliating plastic cone on his head, announcing to the world: “Look everybody, I just got castrated!”
In this way and others, Colonel has learned that life is full of disappointment. He knows that when we take out the suitcases, we’re leaving on a trip and he’s not going with us. He knows that when we fill the tub, it’s time for a torturous bath, and when we grab the leash, it’s time for him to poop on cue.
Among other things, Colonel knows that in the very near future we are going to cut the puppy’s balls off.
But of all the ways we have dismayed the mature mutt, it’s the deep-seated understanding that we deprived him of his, er, manhood. And once a dog or an employee of either gender realizes that life is just a long, drawn-out gonadectomy, it’s tough to recapture the vitality of one’s testicle-having youth.
Like senior workers who have seen promises broken, pensions unfunded, and promotions fall through, Colonel has eaten the bitter fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. He is a wiser yet sadder man, trudging through life sans-bollocks, living only for his daily kibble and the occasional pat on the head. It’s not a terrible life really and, sometimes, there is birthday cake in the break room! But it’s not like it was back when he had hope for the future, faith in management, and an actual pair of huevos.
The Inconvenient Truth of Late Stage Careers
Just as we neutered Colonel for reasons he cannot comprehend, institutions act indifferently to perpetuate themselves. When it comes time to reduce headcount, a company will inevitably prune its less vital and more expensive limbs. Thus, as we age, fewer and fewer of us can rely on the organizations to which we contributed our younger years.
But maybe what feels like betrayal can also be an opportunity—an unasked-for nudge toward work that is more authentic to us, as Viktor Frankl described it, our “own specific vocation or mission…a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment."
After almost three decades practicing law, a good friend of mine desperately wanted to do something he found more satisfying. So, he went back to school to pursue a master’s degree in clinical mental health counseling.
“I finally admitted to myself that defending the rights of XYZ Corporation was slowly sucking away my soul,” he explained. “Now, I help people wrestle with the human condition. Facilitating group therapy has made my life 1,000 times more meaningful.”
This bold move required risk, faith, and a significant reduction in salary, but it also put him on the right path for the remainder of his career. While he’s not making as much money as he used to, he has renewed his professional vitality.
In the end—whether in kennels or cubicles—youthful zeal can take us only so far, and disillusionment is close to inevitable. If we want to keep our heart in the game, we need to learn to fetch on our own terms. The time to find authentic work is before the scalpel drops.
THE END (but read more below…)
[1] Okay, we bought him, but “adopted” sounds better.
This week in Podcasting
You ever wonder what it’s like to be an A-list celebrity’s kid? For Tom Hanks’ daughter, Elisabeth (pen name = E.A.), it was pretty complicated. Her mother, Tom’s first wife, was a schizophrenic alcoholic who abused Elisabeth and older brother, Colin.
On this week’s Reasonably Happy pod, I spoke with Elisabeth about her new book The 10: A Memoir of Family and the Open Road. Her story will make you think twice before you assume that someone from a rich or famous family had it any better than you. (Even if their dad was Forrest - Forrest Gump!)
Check it out on Apple Podcasts or click here for Spotify
Next Month in Comedy
There’s an old saying in comedy: you’re nobody until you’ve made it in Fairfield, CT! Well I’m finally getting my shot…
On May 17, I’m headlining Happy Couples: A Comedy Date Night at Fairfield Comedy Circle. Each of the four hilarious comics will perform relationship-specific material, then have our points-of-view critiqued by relationship expert Tracy Fox, author of the Happy Marriage Handbook. It’s going to be a blast.
Tell all your friends in the metro Fairfield area!
Love you!
It's very cute, although a little sad, that you still think of yourself as "middle age". Unless you have a great healthcare plan and a doctor willing to stretch the rules, neither of us are middle age.
Paul, you're absolutely right! I’ve also been a victim of this common and unpleasant corporate strategy lately. It’s frustrating how all the decades of experience accumulated over a career can lose value in an instant.