The games Short, dry, choose-your-own ways through the parts nobody narrates: a layoff, the job hunt, a return-to-office mandate. You do not win by being upbeat. You handle the next real thing, in order.
A short, fictional walk through the first ninety days after a layoff: the meeting, the walk to the car, the text to your partner, the COBRA math, the job hunt, the lowball offer with a clock on it. You do not win this by being upbeat. You handle the next real thing, in order. It takes about five minutes.
5 ways in · 10 scenes · a paid unhinged mode
A short, fictional walk through six months of looking: the application portal that wants your whole life in forty fields and then a cover letter, the software that rejects you before a human reads a word, the listing that has been "actively hiring" since last spring, the recruiter who was "really excited" and then evaporated, the salary question that is a trap with a friendly font. You do not win this by sending more applications. You aim the few real moves you have at the leaks you can actually see. It takes about five minutes.
5 ways in · 8 scenes · a paid unhinged mode
A short, fictional walk through a return-to-office mandate that arrives dressed as a values memo. The all-hands, the badge data, the commute math nobody added to your salary, the carve-out process that is not really a process, the offer to relocate you decline. You do not win this by loving the office. You read the memo for what it is, in order, and keep your footing while the words do their job. It takes about five minutes.
5 ways in · 8 scenes · a paid unhinged mode
A short, fictional walk through the six weeks where your startup raised forty million dollars and then realigned you out of a job. The funding TechCrunch post. The all-hands with the confetti slide. The "we are a family" email. The equity that a down round quietly zeroed. This is still a layoff, dressed in better fonts. You do not win it by clapping at the right moments. You handle the next real thing, in order. It takes about five minutes.
5 ways in · 9 scenes · a paid unhinged mode
A short, fictional walk through the first stretch of working for yourself: the contract that calls you a partner and pays you like a vendor, the invoice that disappears into net-90, the health insurance you now buy with your own name on it, the quarterly tax bill nobody withheld for you, the platform that sets every term and takes its cut. You do not win this by hustling harder. You handle the next real thing, in order, and you keep your own books while you do it. It takes about five minutes.
5 ways in · 8 scenes · a paid unhinged mode