|
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
In the span of seven months, I was laid off twice.
As a career development professional, I’ve coached thousands of people through the rollercoaster of job loss and transition. I just didn’t expect to become a two-time layoff statistic in under a year. But here we are.
One university. One college. Both jobs gone – not because I didn’t deliver, but because the ground under Canadian higher education is shifting fast. Like many in our field, I got caught in a funding crisis driven by spreadsheets, politics and pressures far beyond any institution’s whiteboard.
And yes, there’s the international student cap – a government response to real infrastructure concerns (housing, health care, student services) that pulled the financial rug out from under many institutions. But the scariest part? The full disruption hasn’t even hit yet. Higher education is facing a wave of market and mindset shifts – where the time, cost and ROI of a degree are being questioned more loudly than ever. And in many cases, the education students receive is already outdated by the time they graduate.
Two layoffs, two mindsets
Seven months separated my first and second layoffs – but my mindset in each couldn’t have been more different.
When I was let go from the university last summer, I took it in stride. I was confident I’d land on my feet, and I did. A classmate from my master’s let me know of an opening at a nearby college that aligned perfectly with my skills and passion. I felt re-energized. Motivated. I was ready to bring my full vibe to the new role.
Within a few months, I landed the leadership position and thought I was set for at least a few years. But less than six months later, I was laid off again — just as I was coming out of the onboarding curve.
“It’s not just the job loss – it’s the mountain of logistical and emotional paperwork that comes with it.”
This time hit differently. I still knew it wasn’t personal. I also knew it wasn’t performance related. But my motivation took a nosedive – and so did my sense of direction. I didn’t know where to start, because I knew I didn’t want to go back to higher education. Cue a full-on crisis of direction.
Why? Because transitioning is exhausting.
It’s not just the job loss – it’s the mountain of logistical and emotional paperwork that comes with it. Leaving a job, job searching and onboarding somewhere new means endless forms, contracts, system logins and scanning of personal documents.
Most people go through that once every few years. Twice in under 12 months? It was triggering.
So, what helped?
Since this second layoff, I’ve had people ask how I coped – and if I have any advice to share. Here’s what I’ll say: everything we coach our clients to do? We need to do it too.
Start by giving yourself what you need.
I didn’t jump into job search mode right away. I listened to what my nervous system needed – and what it needed was to hear the roar of the ocean. So, my husband and I jumped in the car and drove from Toronto to Maine and hung out for a few days eating lobster! Call it grounding, pausing, resetting – I just needed to smell seaweed and hear waves.
Only after I returned did I begin outreach. I had more mental clarity, more language, and more energy to communicate what I was looking for and what I could offer.
When I did start job searching …
I applied to five roles that first week – and I rebuilt my resume from scratch for each one.
Why not just dust off the version I had from my pre-university application years ago? Because that resume spoke fluent higher ed. This time, I needed it to speak to where I was going – talent development. It needed to be clear, confident and in a language both hiring managers and algorithms would understand.
So, I reworded everything. I translated my work with students and internal partners into outcomes and strategies that aligned with organizational growth. I swapped academic jargon for industry-expected terminology – like referring to the student portal as “Brightspace/D2L LMS.” Why? Because applicant tracking systems don’t scan for what your institution casually called something. They scan for keywords hiring teams actually use.
Every detail mattered.
I reframed my coaching and facilitation as leadership development. I emphasized scalable impact instead of just service volume. And I used language that aligned with the business of learning – not just the practice of it.
It wasn’t about reinventing myself. It was about making sure the right people – and the right software – could actually see me.
Targeted outreach, not a numbers game
I didn’t blast my network. I wasn’t trying to book 15 coffee chats a week or chase down every old contact in my inbox. Instead, I reached out selectively – to a few trusted people who understood my work, values and how I show up. People who could engage in a conversation that wasn’t purely transactional.
I wasn’t just asking for leads. I was asking for insight. For perspective. For a read on what they were noticing in their corner of the field. And in a few cases, I was looking for a sounding board to help me pressure-test how I was positioning my next move.
When I did reach out, I was clear. Not just “I’m looking,” but:
- Here’s what I’m exploring
- Here’s where I think I can contribute
- Here’s what kind of conversation would be helpful right now
That framing made a big difference. It set the tone and gave people something concrete to respond to – without putting the pressure on them to “have something” for me.
We often tell clients that career development is relational, and it’s true – but relational doesn’t have to mean high volume. Thoughtful, targeted connection – even with just a few people – can create real movement.
Final thought
If you’re a career professional reading this and feeling that quiet unease about job security, you’re not alone. Layoffs happen in our field, too. And when they do, it can feel jarring. Disorienting. Maybe even a little ironic.
But here’s what I’ve learned: we have access to the same tools we offer our clients — reflection, recalibration and the ability to reframe. We just have to remember to use them.
Give yourself what you give others: space, strategy and self-compassion. Clarity doesn’t always come first. Sometimes, it follows rest. And that’s not weakness – that’s wisdom.
