A straight gravel road stretches through a dense green pine forest toward a sharp, jagged mountain peak in the distance, lit warmly by the evening sun.
Almost a month ago, I was laid off from my job at Intel. No fireworks, no champagne—just a badge that stopped working and the thud of a door that closed for the last time. At the time, I wrote a farewell letter that felt more like a field note from the eye of a storm. But I didn’t share it beyond Intel. I was still in shock, staring into the void with too much caffeine in my system and not enough answers in my head.
Thirty days later, I’ve settled into unemployment’s weird rhythm: mornings without alarms, afternoons where time moves sideways, and nights full of half-formed ideas about what comes next. The silence is loud, and the questions are louder.
Here’s the letter I wrote in the haze. Call it a love note, call it a eulogy, call it a madman’s rambling—I won’t argue.
Hello everyone,
I'd like to start by saying thank you. Working here, with you all on projects big and small has been an absolute pleasure. I have been honored by your trust, your collaboration, and your kindness. I am endlessly proud of the work we've done together and you should be too. Working with the great minds here has taught me so much. I never imagined the end would come so soon.
To those in IDAN – In addition to the truths above, please know you are doing vital work that lifts people up. Your grace and courage have inspired me to be my best self, not despite my disabilities, but in harmony with them. I will never forget our time together and the self-compassion, wit and zest for life that I experienced working and socializing with you all.
To my team, I found a reflection of my weirdness in yours. Thank you for the laughs, the commiseration, and for the privilege of working together. I have learned so much from the examples you have set. I want to be like you someday, when I grow up. I wish I could have spent decades more learning from such great teachers. I know I’ve said this before but thank you. I have never known such acceptance and joy as I have working within this team and that is because of you.
Like many others, I have been affected by this round of layoffs, and my last day will be July 31st. In truth, I've been affected by all the layoffs I've weathered while at Intel; sleepless nights, extra work, feeling helpless, sending friends off, survivor’s guilt, demoralization and the omnipresent stress of knowing that another round is coming. And, as a knock-on effect of the last five years, a boulder named burnout has been on my shoulders, growing slowly and stifling my ability to take care of myself, and my family.
As much as I fear how long it will take for me to find my next great thing, I feel an enormous sense of relief. Now, I finally have time to catch my breath; to remember my sense of self outside my role at this company, engage with each day without rushing between meetings and just exist, as just me and appreciate the wonder of the wild ride that is life.
I will be fine. I will rediscover what excites me, what ignites my passion, and I will redefine myself during the adventures that are ahead of me - growing and evolving as I go.
Saying goodbye is always hard, so let me say this instead; take time to look after yourself, check in with the family and friends that you may have neglected in favor of deadlines and late-night calls. Take a break from bleeding blue, check in with yourself and ask “does what you are doing now nourish you? Does it excite you? Does it bring you joy?” Take care of yourself, and put your needs first, because corporations never will.
If you ever need a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on or a friendly smile at the end of a long day, reach out. I won't be here, but I'll be around, cheering you all on from afar.
Wishing you all, for the last time from @intel.com, the very, very best.
Tiberius Hefflin
Hefflin@unroutable.me
www.linkedin.com/in/jthefflin
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”
― Hunter S. Thompson
In this letter, I named my burnout. It was a truth that was easy to feel but difficult to say during my tame at Intel. A month later, with distance, I can see just how heavy it had truly become, and how much strength it took just to keep moving forward. At the same time, the review process left little room for direct feedback, and I often felt like I was sending my own words into the void, wondering if they made any difference. I poured too much of myself into the work and too little into myself. And yet—I’d do it again, because the people mattered, the work mattered, and some of those late nights still make me proud.
So here I am: unemployed, caffeinated, and curious. Of course I’m looking for a new full-time role so if you know a place where a restless mind with sharp edges might fit, let me know, but I am also looking for passion projects, collaborations, book recommendations, opportunities to mentor and be mentored, or simply a conversation over coffee or tea. If anything sparks a connection, I’d love to hear from you. Otherwise, I’ll keep writing dispatches from this strange new frontier.
