I just… I can’t sleep, like, at all. It’s 2 AM and all I can see are their faces, you know? The faces of the people I laid off today. And I’m supposed to be like, the FAIR one. That’s my whole thing in HR, like, I pride myself on being the person who actually GIVES A SHIT. I’m the one who fights for people, who makes sure policies are actually applied equally, not just some corporate bullshit. My team even calls me the "employee whisperer" sometimes (ugh, cringe, but also… it felt good). Now I just feel like… a whisperer of doom. The whole thing came down from corporate, like, a month ago. "Streamlining operations," "optimizing efficiency," all that garbage speak. But then it got specific. The target demographic, they called it. Not by age, obviously, because that would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. But they gave us these really specific metrics, like, "tenure with the company exceeding X years," "salary band above Y threshold," "number of dependents" (can you even BELIEVE that one?). And when you put it all together, it was clear as day. They wanted the older employees out. The ones with the higher salaries and the bigger benefits packages, the ones who had been here forever and knew the company inside and out. The ones who probably thought they were set for retirement. I tried, okay? I really did. I pushed back in all the meetings. I brought up all the potential risks, the optics, the loss of institutional knowledge. I even pulled out the data about how retaining experienced staff actually *improves* morale and productivity in the long run. My director just looked at me with that blank corporate stare and said, "These are the parameters, [my name]. Your job is to execute." Execute. Like I’m some kind of… software program. And I thought about resigning, like, seriously thought about it. But then what? Another HR person, probably less scrupulous than me, would just step in and do it anyway. And I have bills, you know? Mortgage, kid’s college fund. It’s not like I can just walk away from a director-level salary. So I did it. Today was the day. I had the list, meticulously compiled, checked and double-checked by legal, all the severance packages lined up. And I sat across from them, one by one. Mr. Henderson, who always brought in donuts on Fridays. Mrs. Rodriguez, who taught me how to use the ancient payroll system when I first started. Their faces… confusion turning into understanding, then that quiet, gut-punching defeat. One of them, I won’t say who, just looked at me and said, "I thought you were different, [my name]." And I just sat there, like, trying to keep my voice steady, rattling off the corporate script about "restructuring decisions" and "difficult choices." My hands were shaking so bad I had to hide them under the table. What a fucking fraud. What a complete and utter fraud. Now I’m just staring at the ceiling, replaying every single interaction. Every sad, bewildered glance. And I keep thinking about how I always tell my team to "lead with empathy," to "always put yourself in their shoes." What a joke. I can’t even look myself in the mirror right now. I just wanted to be fair, you know? And instead I became… the opposite. The exact thing I always swore I’d never be. And I don't know how I'm supposed to come back from this. Like, how do you even pretend to be the "employee whisperer" when you just… murdered their careers? I just don't know.