I didn’t get laid off. That’s my crime.
I’m still here in Bangalore — bleary-eyed at 2 a.m., staring into the blue glow of another Zoom call. The Americans on mute, the managers on script, the executives smiling from Spring, Texas, while delivering the latest sermon: “This is not a layoff. This is transformation.”
And I nod along. Because nodding is safer than questioning. Survival in this machine doesn’t mean performing well, or collaborating, or innovating. It means parroting the story exactly as it’s handed down. No edits. No hesitation. Clap when they clap. Smile when they smile. Pretend the slogans mean something when we all know they don’t.
On the anonymous forums, I read the curses: “Damn Indians.” “They took our jobs.” “Outsourcing ki-led us.”
And in that moment, I become the villain. Not an engineer, not a human, not a man with a family. Just a placeholder: cheap labor, offshore body, the thief in someone else’s story.
But here’s the punchline: I didn’t ki-l anyone’s job. Neither did the guy three floors above me or the coder across town pulling a night shift with chai and instant noodles. The true executioners sit higher up. Senior management writes the script. Middle management enforces it.
Middle managers — ah, the great priests of ExxonMobil. They don’t believe in the gospel, but they chant it anyway. They gather us in Zoom town halls and deliver the holy lines:
• “This is about efficiency.”
• “This is how we stay competitive.”
• “We must all align with leadership messaging.”
Then they turn off their cameras, go back to their spreadsheets, and quietly decide which “asset” is expendable.
And the rest of us clap. Because clapping is mandatory.
The truth is uglier than the curses: Americans blame Indians. Indians blame themselves. But the real game is higher. We are not colleagues anymore, just chess pieces moved to satisfy a curve, a cost target, a shareholder’s smile.
So yes, blame me if you must. Curse me for still having a job. But know this: tomorrow it might be some place else. Or an algorithm. The villain will always be whoever management points to, as long as the real architects stay untouched.
ExxonMobil says: Energy Lives Here.
But after this round of
sermons, we all know the translation:
Truth does not. Empathy does not. Only messaging does.