5 Lessons From Being Let Go Less Than 2 Weeks After a Year of Job Hunting

Ten Days In, Back Out Again—And the Hard Truths I Learned Along the Way

I got hired and fired within 10 days, after searching for work for over 400 days straight.

That's not a typo. My first reaction to all of this was, obviously, panic. Hell, this wasn't just a professional setback—it was like being punched in the face while already lying face-down in a ditch. But because I promised myself I would learn publicly, I've extracted five painful lessons from this spectacularly compressed… uhm, learning moment… that might actually help you navigate your employment hellscape should you be in a similar situation someday.

(I hope you’re not in a similar situation someday.)

Lesson 1: Clarity is Not a Gift—It's Something You Have to Demand or Manufacture

Everyone thinks their job description actually means something.

That's cute.

In reality, most job descriptions are wish lists written by committees, describing a magical unicorn employee who probably doesn't exist.

The real job is usually hiding in the shadows, and you’ll need to force clarity into existence like you're summoning it through a dark ritual. In my case, I should have asked more pointed questions like: “What exactly constitutes success in my first 30 days?” and “Which of these seventeen competing priorities actually matter?”

Instead, I nodded politely through vague explanations about “happy paths.” The term seemed relatively familiar, but not enough to spend effort out of the gate figuring out; for all I knew, they could have been the tracks that Thomas the Tank Engine rode on. Instead, I spent my precious first week focusing on things that nobody asked for. At the same time, my boss apparently wanted me to build a demo illustrating the most common user path for an upcoming “make or break conference.” Whoops.

The brutal truth? If you don't manufacture clarity, someone else will manufacture it for you. Usually, right before they show you the door.

Lesson 2: Deliverables > Discovery (When Clock is Ticking)

You know what sounds great? “Taking time to understand the problem space.”

You know what keeps you employed? Delivering tangible shit that people can see.

Don’t get me wrong—understanding the problem deeply matters. But startups often can’t afford that luxury upfront. I spent three days doing deep research on market trends instead of fixing the thing that the CEO cared about the most. My boss later told me that while my analysis was "thoughtful," they needed someone who could “hit the ground running.” Translation: stop thinking and start doing, dummy.

The reality is that most startups operate like they're about 48 hours from total collapse at all times. They are looking for:

1. People who produce visible output quickly

2. Solutions that can be implemented immediately

3. Proof you're not just another person who talks a good game

My careful problem-framing exercise felt important right up until the meeting, when I was told point-blank that I was focusing on the wrong thing entirely. It turns out that working on the right thing badly beats working on the wrong thing perfectly. Who knew?

Lesson 3: At Startups, Ambiguity is a Feature, Not a Bug

I walked in expecting a coherent strategy. That was my first mistake.

The second mistake was complaining about it. “There seems to be a conflict between what Marketing and Product are saying” is a theoretical statement that makes perfect sense to me. To the management team, it sounded like “I require everything to make sense before I can function.”

Successful startup employees don't need things to make sense—they thrive in chaos. They're comfortable making decisions with incomplete information. They understand that contradictions aren't bugs in the system—they ARE the system.

During my brief employment, I encountered different versions of the product roadmap and two completely different primary objectives. Rather than rolling with it, I kept asking which one was “correct.” My boss later explained they needed people who could "navigate uncertainty." Apparently, I was navigating it right into the unemployment line.

The stark reality is that the skills that make you good at established companies—process adherence, thorough documentation, and comprehensive planning—can actually work against you in the chaos of a startup.

Lesson 4: You Learn Quick, Your Threshold for Chaos

Day one: “I love the energy here!”

Day five: “Should I be worried that nobody agrees on what we're building?”

Day eight: “I haven't slept in 36 hours and I'm eating Cheez-Its for dinner again.”

It turns out my chaos threshold is somewhere around "slight schedule changes" and definitely well below "complete strategic pivot every 72 hours."

If I had a therapist, then they would probably call this "having healthy boundaries." My ex-boss called it "not being a culture fit." Both are accurate.

Some people genuinely thrive when everything is on fire all the time. They get a rush from it. I got acid reflux and panic attacks in the bathroom. Know which one you are before you join a company where "moving fast and breaking things" includes breaking your will to live.

Lesson 5: How to Advocate for Yourself When Stakes Are High

I kept thinking that if I worked harder, longer, faster, I could turn things around. If I just showed how committed I was by answering Slack messages at 11 PM or joining that Saturday "optional" strategy session, they'd see my value.

Spoiler alert: they didn't.

What I should have done was clearly communicate what I needed to succeed. Instead of assuming silence meant approval, I should have said, “I need specific feedback on deliverable X.”

I should have asked, “Am I focusing on the right things?” instead of hoping someone would notice if I wasn't.

By the time I realized I was in trouble, it was too late. The decision had been made days earlier, probably as early as day four or five.

The hard truth is that in high-pressure environments, you need to be your advocate because nobody else has time to be. Your performance is being evaluated constantly, usually against criteria that haven't been fully explained to you.

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So there you have it—five lessons that cost me my mental health, financial stability, and a significant chunk of self-respect. The most important takeaway? Sometimes, even when you do everything “right,” things still go spectacularly wrong. And that's not necessarily your fault.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to update my LinkedIn profile for the 401st day in a row.

Have you been through something similar? What’s your biggest lesson from it? Reply and let me know—I genuinely want to hear.