I was unceremoniously let go. It was hard, but it taught me to deal with my anger

It was November 2024. I arrived at the office building at 10.45pm. I unlocked the door and let myself in. With the air-conditioning turned off, there was a stale smell in the room. 

I looked around.

In my eight months working here, I’d never lingered. I was always rushing and brushing past things, eager to work.

Now, this office looked strangely different: Old. Clunky. Fit for change. 

I hurriedly gathered my things – a few personal toolkits I used for counselling and what was left over from the copies of my books that I had sponsored for an event held two weeks ago. I had provided 150 books, priced at S$25 each. 

I left the name cards that the organisation had printed for me on the desk. I hadn’t managed to use even one. 

TERMINATION OR IMMEDIATE RESIGNATION? 

Earlier that afternoon, the head of human resources (HR) and my executive director had sat me down in a meeting room to present me with two options. One: Termination, with immediate effect. Two: They would allow me to resign immediately. 

I was shocked. What had I done to deserve this?

They said that I had misrepresented the director in placing an award nomination for myself without first obtaining his express permission. 

I tried to explain that I had asked him on a Friday night, without getting a reply. I had then waited till 10pm on Monday but, Monday being the deadline, I eventually submitted the nomination without thinking too much of it. After all, seeking permission for such things hadn’t been the rule in my previous organisation. 

I never thought that I was “misrepresenting” anyone. I never thought that I was committing any sort of gross misconduct worthy of immediate dismissal.

Upon hearing their perspective, I admitted that I’d made a genuine mistake and asked for leniency.

I conceded that, in hindsight, I should have sent a follow-up message in case the director had missed my first one – but ultimately, I had acted without bad intent. 

Unfortunately, they explained, there had been a similar situation with another employee before me that had resulted in an immediate resignation. There could be no special exception for me. 

Changing tacks, I then said that I would appeal. If I did that, they warned, they would have to launch a formal inquiry – and I might lose my licence to practise as a registered social worker.

I was scared. I agreed to resign immediately and that was that. 

On my way home that evening, I replayed the incident over and over in my head. 

Turmoil raged within me. How could they do this to me, after I had sponsored thousands of dollars’ worth of my own books for the organisation's event, just two weeks ago?

If they had wanted to terminate me, they could have done so after the nomination submission – well over a month ago. Waiting till after the event felt somewhat disingenuous. 

I felt cheated. I felt angry.

VENTING ANGER 

Growing up, I had always been told to “behave myself” by my parents, teachers and other adults. Whenever I showed any anger, I would immediately be chided: “Don’t throw a tantrum.” 

Over time, I learnt to suppress my anger, thinking that it was the healthy, mature way to deal with the emotion. After all, adults never seemed upset by me staying silent. 

But the anger always leaked out in other ways. 

In the past, when employers had treated me unfairly, I had stayed angry and resentful for a long time. I used to hope that by staying angry, they would notice my anger and apologise to me. 

An apology never came. And the anger only ended up hurting me. I had impulsively argued with a manager and ended up getting put on a PIP, or what is known in corporations as the performance improvement plan. 

When loved ones hurt me, I would give them the silent treatment. They would respond with more silence, making me more upset. 

But this time was different. I couldn’t do what I’d done before, which was to “forgive” and “move on”. 

I allowed myself to feel the full weight of my anger against this employer. I vented in my journal. Instead of pretending I was fine, I spoke to friends about it.

I channelled the anger into physical exercise, imagining that they were being crushed by my uppercross cuts into the punching bag.

Instead of forcing my anger to deflate like a balloon, I let it go like a wrecking ball through my tidily constructed veneer of calm.

Feeling the anger, and releasing it in healthy ways, allowed me to see that anger wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t a shameful jack-in-the-box to be immediately jammed back inside. 

It was valid. It was good. 

It meant that I was beginning to feel again. 

LEARNING FROM ANGER

Anger tells us something important: That we were denied something that mattered greatly to us. Understanding this through therapy and self-reflection helped me to accept and even embrace my anger – which in turn allowed me to learn from it. 

I’ll be honest: I had some suspicions as to why I’d been asked to leave.

One memory in particular kept surfacing in my mind: A Zoom meeting where I had asked discomforting questions about the HR policies. 

But once the storm of my anger blew over, I could see clearly again. I realised that it didn’t matter whether my suspicions were right or not – I would never know. 

I saw that there was no point in me staying angry. 

What would it serve? It would simply mar my memories of the good times spent with my former colleagues and clients, including our “admin auntie” steaming buns for us every day at 5pm, or the many occasions another colleague surprised us with sweets and treats. 

I could now also see that anger had kept me focused on the faults of others and blind to my own wrongs. 

In the award nomination, I had thought only of myself, with no consideration for the potential impact on others.

A certain degree of self-promotion can be good. In the end, my self-absorption had caused me to violate not just my employer’s policies, but also their trust.

In many ways, there was no one to blame but myself. 

I had to eat humble pie. It was a painful lesson, but necessary. 

WHAT AM I FIGHTING FOR? 

Anger is our mind and body working together to give us the energy we need to fight something we perceive as unfair to us. Once I accepted that, I could also see that there was no point fighting this. 

The truth was, a few months before this incident, I had already subconsciously “quiet quit”. 

Micromanagement had been common within my former team and I personally don’t do well with that.

I’d also begun to feel that the senior management was bogged down by heavy cynicism. Suggest things to them and they would say: “Try, already. Cannot, one.” 

As a young worker, I want to learn from seniors and supervisors who share my optimism and can-do spirit. I don’t want to feel trapped in an environment where complaining and finger-pointing are the norm. 

To me, this job just wasn’t worth fighting for anymore.

Once I realised that, my anger calmed on its own. I even began to feel something new – relief that it was all over.

Sure, I would miss the security of a stable wage, but I would always make something work out.

Outside of that job, I already had other outstanding contracts to fulfil for my side business. 

Instead of dwelling on what was lost, I could now focus on what was ahead. 

At 10.55pm on that last day of my employment, I carried my belongings in a box down to the lobby, where my friend was waiting to give me a ride.

“You okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” I mumbled. 

She took the box from me, stuffed it in the boot of her car and patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” 

John Lim, 29, is the owner of content agency Media Lede and the author of Take Heart: Thriving in the Emotional Wilderness. He regularly writes at liveyoungandwell.com.

If you have an experience to share or know someone who wishes to contribute to this series, write to voices [at] mediacorp.com.sg with your full name, address and phone number.