The dreaded layoffs

It was pure coincidence that I wore black on Wednesday. So, too, did a couple of co-workers.

That's the day we all hoped would never come finally arrived -- the day that 37 employees were laid off from The Oregonian, including 27 people from the newsroom.

Even three days after the layoffs occurred (sorry, I can't bring myself to say things like "when the ax fell"), it's still hard to find the words to describe the mood and the effect on those of us who remain -- the so-called "survivors."

You can read the basics here, in this short post: "The Oregonian announces layoffs of 37 employees."

What you won't read -- and what's hard to convey -- is the mix of emotions that we felt on Wednesday. Everything ranging from shock ("They laid her off?") to concern ("Will these cuts be the only ones?") to relief ("There but for the grace of God go I.").

-- Your brain tells you that the cuts are part of a cost-cutting strategy to bring expenditures into line with revenues that have been greatly reduced by the recession and the migration of advertising dollars to the Internet. If the company can't make a profit, it can't sustain itself. That's obvious.

-- Your heart tells you what you already know, that each one of these layoffs comes with a human cost. Aside from the loss of salary and benefits comes the realization that, no matter what criteria were used, your name wound up on the list of people to be let go. That's got to be disconcerting, to say the least. If the layoff came as a surprise, if your pay made up the bulk of your household's income, if you had sustained a loss of some other kind (say, a parent who passed away), the pain and shock are multiple times greater.

-- Your gut tells you that you're damn lucky to have a job. A different calculation, a different set of people making the decisions ... and it might have been you signing the separation papers and picking up your last paycheck.

At the news meeting Thursday morning, it was a somber group of editors who gathered in a conference room to press forward with the next cycle of news gathering and planning for Friday's editions. It fell to our editor, Peter Bhatia, to express what was on everyone's mind.

Yesterday, he said, was about the worst day he's had in 30-plus years of being a journalist. We all knew it was coming, no one wanted it to come and now we're all glad that it's done. The list of people being laid off changed constantly over the past few weeks as skill sets and areas of duplication were assessed against current and future needs. And, now, with a slimmer staff we can get on with the task of reorganizing the newsroom.

When you say goodbye to co-workers in these circumstances, you're saying goodbye to family, for these are the people that you've worked with every day for years. Despite everything, Peter said, those who were losing were amazingly gracious. Though some reacted with shock or anger, the vast majority thanked him for the opportunity to work there and a few even asked how he was holding up. They understand the need to cut costs and even after all of this, hope The Oregonian will recover and once again thrive.

I was profoundly sad this week for my peers and for our industry. And without sounding overly selfish, I'm extremely grateful knowing I'm among those still there at the newspaper and continuing in my job as Sunday Opinion editor.

A final note: I can't end this post without acknowledging the emails that came from a handful of industry friends -- each of them a generation younger than me -- expressing sadness about the layoffs and asking if I'd been spared. That showed a lot of class.

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