On the Precipice of Success #

Samuel strutted into the French bakery, the cold, bitter air outside biting at him. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and buttery pastries welcomed him in, a little haven in a world that was up in flames. He placed his order: a potato confit garlic quiche, a danish, and a latte with oat milk. While he waited for his order, Samuel glanced outside the window. An elevated train rumbled overhead, its steel frame casting a shadow over the street below, as it ferried people between the boroughs, a steady constant in the swirling chaos.

Now with his food, Samuel scrolled through his phone while eating. His employer was on the verge of going public. Ten years ago, buying pizza for his family was a stretch. Now, he stood at the precipice of becoming a millionaire, even after taxes. Company DSCLSRE channels buzzed with dreams of early retirement, luxury cars, high-end vacations, mortgage payoffs, and kids' college funds. Samuel, ever practical, had no debt, no significant other, and no major expenses beyond rent. His plan was modest: sell some stock, indulge in a nice vacation to Paris, and let the rest ride.

Technically, Samuel was supposed to be out of office, but who in the startup world truly unplugged, especially with life-changing money in the pipeline? The boundary between work and rest had long since blurred. He justified his compulsion—he had earned the right to hover.

After scrolling around DSCLSRE, he opened Facegrind, his sole link to home. Baby and truck pictures from rural Georgia filled his feed. Not many opportunities back home. "They could never imagine being a millionaire like me," he thought. It was a poignant reminder of how far he'd come.

Then there was Oblivious. He hesitated but opened the app. Layoff gossip flooded the tech scene. Comments ranged from bitter to panicked to resigned. Older workers remarked that this was just 2008 all over again. Others shrugged it off—2008 was so long ago!

A post caught his eye: "Got laid off. Severance won’t last. Any leads?" The user was from his company. Samuel hoped it was a mistake. He didn’t check. Sometimes ignorance was a blessing.

Samuel locked his phone and wandered the neighborhood. The park, the sketchy-yet-reliable bodega—all staples of his routine. More kids played in the park these days, their parents conspicuously whiter and bearing pricy strollers. Remittance shops specializing in transfers to Latin America were substituted by artisanal coffee shops serving expensive pour-overs to the keyboard warrior class. Samuel, with his quarter-million-dollar salary, was part of that shift. Whatever. Rent was still acceptable—for now.

Jules lived in a dilapidated, dimly-lit basement apartment somewhere deep in Brooklyn. The persistent mold made his eyes itch daily, and rats scurried about, disrupting his sleep and fueling his nightmares. Despite the poor condition, the rent remained steep, the price of desperation after a rushed search for housing after his girlfriend broke up with him.

Rent was just one layer of Jules' problems. Jules chased his dreams of being a software engineer, attending the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, where he did well—at the cost of his now omnipresent student loan debt. Opening up the student loan payment portal was a constant dread.

Jules' last job at a big tech company had ended in a layoff. Caspoke hadn't been his first choice, but given the job market back in 2022, he had to take it. Caspoke promised him the world—"home automation that works", unlimited opportunity, quick career progression, and a slightly higher salary.

His manager, Samuel, was supportive, engaging, and genuinely interested in Jules’ growth. Samuel's guiding principle was that success was based on luck, but that you could improve your odds. He encouraged Jules to be an active contributor to Caspoke's engineering culture. To that end, Jules hosted a bi-weekly engineering meeting where other engineers would introduce projects they'd been working on. Last meeting, he presented on build time improvements to the company's continuous integration process.

He was at the precipice of being elevated—last week, Samuel said that he'd compile a promotion packet for him for next quarter.

On the Precipice of Being Undone #

A series of incredibly dumb events was about to unfold—events beyond Samuel's and Jules' control, yet destined to reshape their lives. For the worse.

First, the company's IPO was delayed. The markets were spooked, and leadership decided to hold off. Understandable—markets were known for their fickleness. That paled compared to what came next.

Blitcoin cratered.

Hard.

The stock market crashed. Samuel had never touched cryptocurrency, thinking it immaterial to his life. But now? Everyone's hands are in an empty cookie jar.

Team,

We regret to inform you that due to unforeseen developments, our IPO process has been indefinitely delayed. We know that many of you are deeply disappointed by this development. We share your frustrations as well.

Over the next few weeks, we will be working to optimize liquidity for as many of our employees as possible through a tender round. We have had promising conversations with our investors, as well as with a prominent sovereign wealth fund in the Middle East. As soon as we have more news, we will share it with you all.

Rest assured that no layoffs are planned.

This news does not change our return-to-office policy, as part of our office rationalization strategy.

In good spirits,
Bryce Peters
CEO, Caspoke

— #announcements, Caspoke DSCLSRE

Plans for Paris were shelved for good. Samuel figured the tender offer was a mirage.

Of course, the universe was conspiring against me, he thought. and iff God exists, He seeks a joke at our expense.

On the precipice of success, reality delivered its shove.

Samuel's manager, Kevin, scheduled an urgent one-on-one with him. His brain filled with chaos and fear.

The call started, and to Samuel's surprise, the call was much warmer than expected.

"Samuel, I know this is sudden, but let's start with the good news."

"Okay."

"Management has decided to reward you for your hard work."

More work? Worthless stock options? No more office lunch?

"Ok, what's the reward?"

"Well, first, some news that you might not like."

"Don't sugar-coat it."

"You're getting an involuntary promotion. Effective immediately, you're the head for consumer product engineering. They chose you because you're great at untangling messes."

"Ah, such a 'reward'! I'm soooo flattered!"

"Exactly, you get two jobs for the price of one!"

"So generous when most people would kill to have just one!"

"In this economy? Certainly."

"Anyway, was this 'promotion' the only 'reward' they were talking about?"

Jules' stomach twisted as the invite showed up in his inbox. "Important News." He knew what was coming.

He was joined by 300 of his co-workers on the Velocity meeting. Bryce, Caspoke's CEO, started sharing his screen - not the usual company slides, but a dense dashboard of metrics: user engagement, retention cohorts, NPS scores.

"The data tells a story," Bryce began, his voice carrying an enthusiasm for data over people, "Our north star metrics have deviated from the mean. NPS is trending downwards in all cohorts, conversion rates have declined despite continued A/B testing, and returns have spiked to a critical level."

He switched to another dashboard. Red arrows everywhere.

"We have had to optimize the company for the long haul. We ran the numbers. The most optimal strategy is a 20% reduction in our workforce, extending our runway whilst preserving operational capacity."

Jules texted Samuel. "Layoff."

"Unfortunately, this is the end of your time here at Caspoke. To minimize security risk, your access to Caspoke systems will be revoked immediately. Two months severance, one month additional COBRA. We believe a single, standard severance package will help reduce our cash burn."

He switched to yet another dashboard, a projection of the company's recovery after the layoffs.

"This is the only way forward."

Jules' company laptop went dark.

This VanillaBook is locked.
To unlock this computer, please contact your system administrator.

"No, but it's the most certain thing you're getting."

"Damn, I was so close to being a millionaire."

Samuel's phone buzzed. It was a message from Jules. He said he'd been laid off.

Kevin continued as if nothing had happened, "I used to say that when I was younger and dumber. Now I know better."

Samuel checked DSCLSRE. Jules' account had been deactivated. Oh dear.

"Uhh, I just heard Jules got laid off?"

Kevin paused. "Oh, shit."

On the Precipice of Being Ruined #

"Why didn't I hear of this earlier?"

"You don't stare at dashboards all day?"

"I have work to do!"

"Hey, Bryce treats his models like they're his kids!"

"What are we, a data visualization company?"

"Actually, someone hacked our device to run Doom. Runs better than our software."

"Brutally honest. Coffee?"

"Thanks... rent's becoming a problem for me, though. Eight weeks severance is nothing."

"Wish I could do more. Do you want to grab a coffee?"

"I'd appreciate that."

"What time?"

"3 o'clock?"

"Meet me at Elena's Coffee."

"Can do."

Elena's was a small, cozy coffee shop not far from the Caspoke office. The thought of $9 lattes was foreign to Jules, and yet it was bustling, even in this economy. Samuel ordered a latte, Jules chose a drip coffee. Jules declined Samuel's offer to pay.

"Time for the MacDonough's coffee life," Samuel said, pulling out his metal credit card.

Jules thought of his battered coffee maker he’d snagged off Denisetable and his giant bag of pre-ground Boldrin's.

"Liked the coffee machine at work... well, used to."

"That thing brews despair."

"Guess I've got different standards." He's never suffered a day in his life.

"Wish I could help you more."

"You’re simply not in my shoes."

"When I was a teenager, my family was on the brink of homelessness—"

"I have to pick between rent or my student loans!"

"Jules, I didn't mean—"

"I graduated from Michigan! You went to some state school in Georgia!"

"The layoff didn’t discriminate by alma mater—"

"Now I have to ask whether I'm paying my student loans or my rent!"

"I got lucky. I know."

"Wish I had your luck."

"The universe can be a cruel mistress—"

"Like you're being right now!"

Jules stormed out of the cafe. Guilt sat with Samuel with the bridge ablaze.

Jules hunched over his laptop. Not the company-provided VanillaBook he had to return, but a laptop he bought back in college. The poor thing wheezed as the machine used every ounce of its power trying to bring up his budgeting spreadsheet. Once it opened up, Jules could finally start taking stock of his situation.

Okay, rent is $2,000 per month. Student loan payment, $1,300 per month. $500 per month for groceries. $100 per month for entertainment. Utilities are $200 per month. Internet is $70 per month, cell service is $35 per month, thank goodness for bargain-basement plans. Health expenses, around $100 per month. Transportation, $100 per month.

Every keystroke lagged the computer, it too reflecting upon his grim reality. No more entertainment. $200 per month for rice and beans and trips to the food bank.

He had five months of runway after the severance package and tapping his savings. Deferring student loan payments bought two more. After that? Beg his ex to take him in, or live with his parents in Florida. He hoped the job market would improve before he arrived at Morton's fork.

Samuel's aloofness weighed heavily on Jules as he made his calculations. Samuel was annoyed about skipping $9 lattes, while Jules was living precariously.

He finished the edits to his budget, closed the laptop, and cried in his bed. Today was a gut punch. Tomorrow, the countdown begins.

On the Precipice of Being Lost #

Samuel walked out of the office. Winter had melted into spring, but the blossoms on the trees did little to lift his spirits. As he strolled down Broadway toward Union Square, his exchange with Jules replayed in his head on an endless loop. Each repetition tightened the knot in his chest. Jules' biting remark about Samuel attending "some random state school in Georgia" echoed louder each time. Samuel had fought hard for every inch of progress. Georgia Southern wasn’t Michigan, but it had been his stepping stone. Rejection from Georgia Tech had been a wake-up call, but Georgia Southern gave him a second chance. He took it and thrived. Yet, Jules’ words reduced his effort to nothing.

Samuel’s pace quickened as if he could outrun the thoughts, but the hurt lingered as he descended into the labyrinth beneath Union Square. As he searched for the L train, Samuel's thoughts turned to yesterday. Had Jules known that he had almost come to the precipice of being homeless? That his family had almost lost everything? That without the government's meager assistance, they would have been on the streets? It was so visceral, so real! Yet Jules looked at where Samuel was now, and considered himself to be the one who had it rough.

Samuel didn't have to wait long for the train. He boarded the train and took a seat by the window. The train was crowded, but Samuel was lost in his thoughts. The harsh, fluorescent lights of the subway beamed down on him, casting a harsh light on his face. He stared at his phone, longing for something, but uncertain of what he was looking for. The train rumbled on after First Avenue, dipping under the East River.

As the train sped under the river, Samuel finally lost it all. He began to cry uncontrollably, dark thoughts entering his mind. I'm a failure. I'm an overprivileged tech bro and I know it. He was consoled by a stranger, who offered him a tissue. He wiped his face with it.

"I appreciate it. But I had such a difficult conversation with someone I had to lay off..."

"It's going be OK."

"I can't! I can't connect on a human level!"

"Relax. We all make mistakes."

The anger in Jules' voice played again, and Samuel cried yet again.

"I'm sorry... I'm just so lost."

"We all have moments like this. Listen... what's your name?"

"Samuel."

"Mike. I'm not sure what you're going through, but I'd like to help you out as much as I can."

Samuel wiped his eyes. "I appreciate it, Mike. I'm just... who are you? Can you help me?"

The train now prepared to ascend into Brooklyn.

"I'm a philosophy professor at Columbia. We seek to have the world make sense."

"Making sense of the world? How?"

"There's always meaning. You just have to find it."

"I don't know if I can do it."

"Philosophy is for everyone. We have non-traditional student programs, too."

"I appreciate it, Mike. I'll think about it."

Mike left a card with his office hours and contact information. "See me whenever you feel like you're ready. Until then—"

The train's automated announcement system interrupted the moment. "This is Bedford Avenue." A different voice continued, proudly exclaiming that the station was accessible by those with disabilities and where the elevator was located.

He had many more stops to go before he could get home. That meant plenty of time to dwell, in a city where dwelling was a luxury few could afford.

Samuel walked back to his apartment after getting off at his stop. This had been the heaviest day of his life. Samuel rubbed salt in the wound of someone who'd just been laid off.

His bed awaited him. He embraced it, with tears in his eyes. Jules left his cell phone number on the company DSCLSRE. Samuel saved it. He would try to text Jules when he was in a better state of mind, try to make amends.

He fell asleep, his mind still racing.

Jules gasped for air as he woke up from the worst nightmare he'd ever had.

His ex demanded he move out immediately—worse, his apartment hunt was turning up nothing, and he hadn't found a job in six months. He was running on fumes and out of friends willing to let him couchsurf, so he bought a flight back home departing the following week. As he was making his way to Newark Airport on a nearly empty commuter train, a mentally ill man was saying that the planes were being manipulated by a shadowy force that he couldn't quite coherently identify. Midway through the flight to Florida, the plane suffered from a malfunction, crashing onto land somewhere in coastal North Carolina. Now here he was, the only survivor, and there was no calvary coming to the rescue. Fear struck deep into his heart, knowing that this was the end.

Before he could finish filling in his fate, he woke up from his slumber. It was 5 AM. At this moment, he would probably be brushing his teeth, getting dressed, and preparing breakfast. Well, he still had eggs and bacon in the refrigerator, the one that always seemed to be on its last legs. He feared the day that a power outage would finally send the refrigerator to its fate—discarded like his ambitions.

He turned on the stove. Oh good, I remembered to pay the gas bill. He cracked the eggs, scrambled them, and let them cook. Next was the bacon, the smell deeply pleasing to Jules as it sizzled. Once it was ready, he decanted the grease for later disposal.

Today, he was eating like a king. Tomorrow? Who knew.

Open to work.

Now, who wants to hire him?

The poor laptop screamed as it was called upon to open his resume. Each keystroke caused the computer to pause, contemplating Jules' next move.

Caspoke, May 2022 - April 2023
Software Engineer

• Contributed substantially to a project to improve the efficiency of the data pipeline for Caspoke's consumer products.
• Rewrote a service responsible for ingesting data from IoT devices to support higher throughput, reducing cloud costs by 24%.
• Identified and resolved customer issues that were escalated to engineers.

Jules knew that these accomplishments meant little aside from showing he was potentially qualified. He couldn't show his work off or articulate what kind of societal value it had, aside from it trickling down into a bonus—oh, wait, they cancelled bonuses for the 2022 review cycle! What dumb luck!

The universe can be a cruel mistress. Samuel's words stung.

His machine crashed with a blue screen of death. Jules rebooted the computer, to no avail—the operating system didn't come back to life. Now I'm really up shit creek without a paddle.

He chose to buy a new computer, since he had been meaning to do so anyway. Not being able to recover the old computer wouldn't be catastrophic, since he kept a copy of his resume and budgeting spreadsheet in the cloud, along with using a password manager.

As he navigated the maze sitting below Barclays Center, a homeless person came up to him and asked him for a dollar. Avoiding them, Jules continued to exit the complex and walked to his destination, a gleaming glass-encased monument to tech, the Orchid Store in Downtown Brooklyn. If he hoped to get a job anywhere, nevermind the rough and tumble tech industry, he'd need to look the part.

The store had a flatiron shape. Jules thought the exterior reminded him of a stapler. A brightly-lit representation of an orchid flower in bloom was prominently centered between the top of the door and the roof. The glass made the store's layout apparent: clean, warmly lit, and neatly organized into a grid of tables with Orchid's latest and greatest devices on display.

He went inside. A beautiful, calming floral note wafted in the air while quiet, smooth muzak played in the background. The enormity of the store outside vastly diminished inside. His eyes were drawn to Orchid's most affordable laptop, the VanillaBook Bud, but also its upscale line for the aspirational, the VanillaBook Bloom. As he was looking, a "specialist" walked up to him and asked how he could help.

"I'm looking for a new computer," Jules meekly replied, "I'm a software engineer."

The specialist was chipper. "The base VanillaBook Bloom has a 8-core CPU as a minimum. How old is your current laptop?"

"It's from 2016."

"The P1 Turbo chip will be perfect for—"

"I just need a computer!"

"Let me check what we have in stock... how about a 15-inch Bloom with 12 cores, 48GB memory, and 2TB SSD?"

"I'm on a budget."

"We also have a 15-inch Bloom with 10 cores, 32GB memory, and 1TB of storage."

"Close enough."

"That's $2,399.00. With tax, $2,612.51."

That's two and a quarter months of rent. Or one month of runway.

Jules was resigned to his fate. He pulled out his black-matte metal credit card, a relic of better times, and paid for the laptop. To his relief, the transaction was approved. The specialist handed him the laptop.

"Here you go! Do you have any questions or need any more help?"

"I'm good."

Jules went back to his apartment and unboxed the computer. The Orchid experience continued with its clean, minimalist packaging. The wrapper protecting the computer had a subtle yet beautiful vanilla scent. He took the laptop out of its protective wrapper and opened the lid. A reassuring chime played and the orchid flower bud lit up the display, as the new electronic and vanilla smells became one ornate ensemble. As the computer progressed through its boot-up sequence, the beautiful bud blossomed into a brilliant bloom.

For just a moment, Jules could forget about his credit card statement and the mold.

On the Precipice of Being (Un)hired #

Samuel found himself in a conference room across from Kevin, the head of engineering, the CTO, and Bryce, the CEO. The monitor displayed an endless loop of the company logo, the cheerful animation now a relic from a more optimistic era.

"Samuel," Bryce began, "As you know, our products resonate with millions of people, through the power of the internet of things. The data doesn't lie—you're our most important individual contributor, and ought to be compensated accordingly."

Kevin shot Samuel a sympathetic look. "Let's talk numbers."

The CTO leaned forward. "We've proposed a substantial equity package that reflects our confidence in—"

"Equity?" Samuel cut in. "Who in their right mind wants to cut us a check? Our latest launch was a disaster!"

Before Samuel could speak, Bryce cut in. "But do you know about the expected value—"

"Expected value? It's zero, because our products don't fucking work!" Samuel exclaimed.

Bryce ignored Samuel, continuing, "of your time here? You don't even know about all the future—"

Samuel stood up, "I quit!"

"Please listen to me—"

"Bryce," the CTO cut in sharply, "Can you build out that TPS reporting model you've been talking about?"

Kevin nodded emphatically. After a moment of confused silence, Bryce left.

"Samuel, please sit down. We can now discuss this properly," Kevin said.

Samuel sat down and took a deep breath. The CTO cleared his throat. "We can explore a cash bonus as well, though I want to emphasize our belief in the company's long-term—"

Samuel interrupted him. "I'm fighting a war with one arm tied behind my back. Half my team is gone. I've been spending nights and weekends executing a turnaround of the consumer division. You must appropriately compensate me."

"Samuel's right," Kevin interjected, earning a sharp look from the CTO. "We've asked him to take on an enormous, thankless responsibility. The consumer division needs a complete overhaul."

"What number did you have in mind?" the CTO said.

Samuel stated his figure. The CTO visibly winced.

"We'll need to discuss this internally," the CTO said.

"My best and only offer," Samuel said. Kevin gave him a subtle nod of approval.

A short moment of silence. "We'll get back to you," the CTO said.

Samuel stood up. "Thank you. I expect an answer in the next two weeks."

As Samuel walked out of the conference room, he knew this was a gutsy move that was likely to backfire. Gone was the man from rural Georgia happy that he had a big boy tech job at all, uncritically swallowing all the promises and lies. Now this Samuel was much harsher in the wake of his broken dreams, politeness be damned. Either he would get what he asked for—in cash, not equity—or he would walk away from the company that had once been his dream job. The monitor's looping company logo caught his eye one last time as he closed the door, its cheerful animation now seeming more like a tombstone for his former self than a symbol of future prosperity.

If there was one thing the VanillaBook Bloom was good at, it was being fast. Jules didn't need all the power he had on tap, but it didn't matter as long as he could pursue Graphdegree connections, read reviews on Woodknock, tap Oblivious for tips and referrals, and join Velocity calls with hot startups backed by ZZCombinator. It didn't hurt that the webcam was better compared to his old computer, although that meant he'd position himself towards the door instead of the moldy walls. More dignified than taking calls at the coffee shop.

Seeking Referrals!

I was affected by the recent layoff at Caspoke. Can someone please refer me for a position at Facegrind, Hell Gate Trading, or Wedge? Thank you so much!

TC: 🥜 (was $334k)
YOE: 3

— verne1997 (ex-Caspoke), Oblivious "Jobs and Referrals" section

There were some helpful leads posted in the thread. Not many of them worked out in the end.

He continued to apply everywhere.

Thank you for your interest in DSCLSRE. While your experience is a strong fit, we have moved forward with another candidate whose alignment with our core values better reflects our dynamic culture of transparency and innovation. Please check our careers page for future opportunities that match your passion for disclosure.

Jules, I wanted to thank you for your time interviewing with our team. Unfortunately, you will not be moving forward with the process at LongChain. We wish you the best of luck in your future opportunities.

Our team has reviewed your job application for the Senior Software Engineer (Trade Execution) position. Unfortunately, we have decided to move forward with other, more promising candidates. We cannot provide any feedback on your application. Thank you for considering Hell Gate Trading!

Hi Jules—thanks for applying, great resume. Currently we're looking for a head of engineering, I'll let you know when we've found them!

Some companies ghosted him after promising interviews. Others wasted his time with endless interviews.

The due date on his credit card statement grew closer, like a bomb's fuse slowly burning away, ready to ignite with interest.

Jules, we're pleased to extend you an offer as a Senior Software Engineer at BlockKit!

The salary was lower than what Caspoke paid him, but a pay cut trumps unemployment. He fired off an email to the recruiter, saying he'd accept the offer.

Hi Jules, thanks for your response. Unfortunately, due to market conditions, we will need to rescind your offer...

Jules was dejected. The only things that kept him going were spite and the prospect of being forced back to Florida, networking at a sad "Tech Professionals of Central Florida" event over stale Publix sweet tea, begging his parents to take him out to Waffle House instead of going back to rice and beans, and maybe having to settle for taking contract work on legacy applications built upon equally legacy tech stacks.

Then, finally, a breakthrough.

Hi Jules, do you have some time for a call today?

Jules' heart jumped. Was he going to be rejected again?

At five o'clock, his phone buzzed.

"Hi, is this Jules?"

"Yes. Is this Sylvia with Wedge?"

"Yes, it's Sylvia. We have excellent news to share with you."

Jules relaxed a bit.

"We are pleased to extend you an offer as a Software Engineer."

Jules cried. Finally? Only a day before the credit card statement became due?!?

Sylvia chimed in, "Are you OK, Jules?"

"Yes. I've been searching for so long."

"It's been a tough market, that's what I've been hearing from candidates. We have no shortage of applications for the limited number of positions we do have."

"Thanks, Sylvia. So what's the offer?"

"$150,000 base. Substantial equity. I'll send you a copy of our benefits guide. Plus, a product that works."

"You've heard about Caspoke?"

"Their smart remote makes a great e-book reader."

Jules chuckled. I guess those metrics made a twisted amount of sense. "It sure does have a great use case!"

"Better for reading Agatha Christie novels than turning on the lights. Still, a solid use case!"

The next two months were a blur. Samuel held an all-hands to introduce himself to the team. Then came the real challenge—discovering all the skeletons in the closet.

Samuel formulated a plan to turn things around. For the first time in months, the team felt like they had direction. They axed half-baked features in favor of prioritizing the core customer experience. A tactical team of engineers was laser-focused on shrinking cloud spend. A skunkworks team was hard at work reworking essential components that barely functioned. Engineers ran on pizza, soda, and a medically unadvisable amount of caffeine.

The product performance indicators started trending positive: cloud cost basis down 10.2%, NPS delta +3 points week-over-week, and latency metrics improved 15% after a key service was rewritten by Samuel's skunkworks team. Bryce proudly shared these dashboards in the all-hands, but the whispers grew louder—someone was gathering data points for his inevitable exit.

But now the day of reckoning came. The CTO called him back into the conference room. The company logo still played on the monitor, but the mood was different. The CTO's mood were more subdued, more respectful. They had made their decision. Samuel sat down, his heart pounding.

"Samuel," the CTO began, "we've decided to approve your bonus."

A bit of the old, snarky Samuel returned. "Oh, that's good. Just wanted to make sure you knew my value."

The CTO chuckled. "We're going to wire it directly to your bank account."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "That'll make dealing with the taxman harder, but I'll take it."

The CTO smiled. "One more change. After today, you will now report to Kevin, who will be our new interim CTO."

Samuel shook hands with the CTO, "Glad I could help. Best of luck on your future endeavors."

With that, the CTO left with nothing more to say. Samuel had stood up for himself and he'd won. The next day, as promised, a wire transfer hit his bank account. With that, his bank account was now north of $100,000.

But Samuel didn't care about the cash. He cared about the principle: did leadership treat him as the valuable employee they claimed he was? He made a, well, somewhat unreasonable demand, and they caved.

He had won. But victory tasted like MacDonough's coffee.

On the Precipice of Security #

Looking at his bank account that evening, Samuel couldn't feel the rush he'd expected. The six figures staring back at him from his phone screen felt less like victory and more like combat pay.

Jules's desk was empty, and it stayed that way for months. The desk still bore the signs that it had been once his - a faded spot where a photo frame had blocked the sun, and an unplugged monitor cable dangling towards the floor. Every morning, the empty desk reminded Samuel of his "win."

He still went to that same French bakery, ordered the same quiche and danish, watched the same elevated train rumble overhead. But something had shifted. The comfort these rituals once provided had hollowed out. His coffee, despite its perfect roast and precise preparation, tasted bitter.

Samuel stared at his metal credit card, heavy in his pocket. He had the means to go to Paris. But the money felt like a fortress he had to maintain, knowing his own position was more precarious than ever. The equity that was supposed to make him a millionaire still sat there, digital numbers in a digital account, worth less than the electricity used to display them.

Bryce was now gone. Officially, he was leaving to "pursue other projects," but everyone knew the truth—an investor who poured $120 million of fresh capital into Caspoke had insisted on Bryce’s departure, sweetened by a golden parachute. Was it that mythical Middle Eastern sovereign wealth fund? For all Samuel knew, this investor would've done better incinerating the money.

The CTO didn’t last much longer. His handling of Caspoke’s latest botched launch and ballooning cloud bills sealed his fate. In his place came Kevin, first as interim CTO, and later the permanent CTO, with Samuel reporting directly to him.

Changes were swift. Instead of swooning over dashboards, data was now balanced with customer feedback. The return-to-office policy was scrapped. A large group of underperforming employees, whom Bryce believed could become effective employees with additional training and mentoring—a program that was bleeding cash and ineffective—were laid off, in a dignified fashion. Finally, to much employee delight, the office lunch program, based on a complex employee engagement and performance model that was hard to understand but easy to game, was replaced by a straightforward daily stipend.

Samuel had always been the company’s go-to fixer. His turnaround of the consumer product had saved the company—at least for now. But Samuel felt no relief. If anything, he was standing on a different kind of precipice—personal, emotional, existential. Materially, things were better than ever. Inside, he was unraveling. The sleepless nights, the constant high-stakes decisions—each one chipped away at him, until he finally broke.

He looked up Mike on Columbia's website, found his office hours, and decided to pay him a visit. A long journey to the campus on the 1 train followed.

Mike's office was small, but cozy, with a bookshelf filled with old, dusty tomes. Mike looked up from his desk, a smile on his face.

"Do you remember me?" Samuel asked.

Mike squinted. "I'm sorry, I see a lot of students. Can you remind me?"

"I'm Samuel. We met on the L train a few months ago. You offered me a tissue. Told me about philosophy."

"Ah, Samuel! I remember now. How have you been?"

"Been better. Been worse."

"What's going on?"

"I'm still that same person. Richer, but still broken. I've won, at an enormous cost. Therapy isn't helping."

"Meaningless suffering is a curse. Meaningful suffering is a choice. That's what philosophy explores."

"I'm done with tech. I'm ready to explore."

"I'll get you in touch with the right people in admissions."

"Thank you, Mike. I appreciate it."

Returning now to the office, Samuel drafted an email to his boss. "Kevin, I've decided to enroll in Columbia's philosophy program. I've been feeling lost, and I think this is the right path for me. I am requesting a leave of absence for the next year to focus on the program full-time, and if this is not possible, I will have to resign. I hope you understand."

He hit send, and felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He was still on the precipice, but now he was moving forward. He was still lost, but now he was searching for answers.

This led to a three-way conference between him, Jeff, the new CEO, and Kevin, his manager and the CTO.

"Samuel, we understand your decision," Jeff said. "But we don't want you to leave."

"I'm sorry, Jeff," Samuel said. "I need the space."

Kevin spoke up. "We can offer you a sabbatical. You can take a year off, and we'll hold your position for you."

Samuel considered the offer. "I appreciate it. I'll take it."

Kevin nodded. "We'll get the paperwork started. We'll miss you, Samuel."

With that, Samuel spent a few weeks preparing for his sabbatical. He wasn't going to be paid during his leave, but he had enough to live in New York for two years without any income. He had enough to pay his rent, to buy food, to live comfortably. He had enough to find himself.

He walked out of the office, the weight of the world off his shoulders. He was on the precipice of moving forward.

"Jules? Mind if I sit down?"

Jules looked up from his coffee and his VanillaBook Bloom. They were at a small coffee shop close to Washington Square Park. "Samuel! Of course, sit down. Coffee's on me, if you want."

"Hope the new gig is treating you well. I'll pay for my own coffee."

"It's great. Commute hits different since it's downtown."

"Moved out of the basement?"

"Indeed! I'm in Long Island City now. Have a new girlfriend too."

"Excellent! I'm on sabbatical, beginning my philosophy study at Columbia. I had to find myself."

"Good to hear. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"I had everything I wanted, besides myself."

Jules nodded as he pointed at his laptop. "Materialism can only take you so far," he said with a knowing smile, as to remind Samuel that he was the catalyst for Jules' unplanned purchase.

Jules never stood at the precipice of being a millionaire. Yet, he was ruined, lost, and gambled it all. Now he was at the precipice of material security.

Samuel was no longer at the precipice of being a millionaire. He'd been ruined, he'd been lost, he too gambled it all. Now he was now at the precipice of security in self-actualization.

Perhaps security is the most important precipice of all.