Getting laid off can be one of the loneliest experiences—I found an unexpected way to cope

Being laid off feels almost like a prerequisite or rite of passage these days. I’ve been through it before, most recently in May, when the startup where I led customer operations restructured and cut my role, among others, in the process. 

That month, U.S. companies announced 97,006 job cuts, up 16% from the previous month and 3% year-over-year, according to global outplacement firm Challenger, Gray & Christmas. In 2025, companies announced over 1.2 million job cuts, the highest total for any year since 2020 and the seventh highest since 1989.

I know firsthand that getting laid off can be one of the loneliest professional experiences, even when it’s happening to hundreds of thousands of employees all over the country.

Finding a new job isn’t easy in a low-hire market where 27.1% of unemployed workers have been searching for over six months, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The U.S. economy added just 29,000 jobs in September, according to the jobs report released Friday, well below economists’ forecasts, and July and August numbers were revised downward by about 60,000 jobs.

Here’s what the layoff aftermath and search have looked like for me: Applying to job after job and never hearing back. Reaching out to people who don’t respond. Coming home and telling my wife I’ve been rejected from another five jobs today. I have a family that loves me completely, and I was still lonely, because rejection corners you into solitude even when you’re surrounded by people. 

I figured if loneliness was the problem, then building community with other people who’ve been laid off might be the solution. There were certainly enough of us who’d had a turn on the chopping block. So a few months ago, I made a sign, carried it into my local coffee shop and propped it up on my table. 

It says: “Got laid off? You’re not alone. Let’s chat!” 

Putting the sign up felt scary. It meant admitting to any stranger passing by that I’d lost my job, then sitting there not knowing who would stop, who would stare, who would walk past like I’m invisible and who would judge. But I couldn’t ask people to be vulnerable if I wasn’t willing to do it myself. 

On my first day at a new shop, the only open seat was at a small table in the back, next to the napkins, lids, sugar and cream. At first I thought my experiment — which I now call “The Open Chair” — was doomed. It turned out to be the best seat in the house, because everyone walks past the napkin station eventually.

One young woman kept coming back, grabbing a lid, then a napkin, then something else. Every time she passed, I saw her eyes linger on my sign. On the fourth trip, she stopped, let out a sigh and sat down. 

She then told a complete stranger (me) her story. As a recent college graduate, she said she’d struggled to land anything until she finally got her foot in the door at a local company. A year later, she was laid off. Her first real job, her first real layoff, and she had no idea what to do next. She was exactly who I was doing this experiment for. 

I’ve spent my whole career saying the thing I’m most proud of is helping others grow their careers.  

For a long time, I wanted to be a teacher. I was inspired by the way Ms. Miller — my fourth grade teacher and volleyball and basketball coach — taught, coached and connected with me. I wanted to do the same for others when I grew up. Life had other plans for me, and I didn’t go into teaching. But I did start coaching basketball and later, as I built my career in tech, I found I was good at mentoring people professionally and helping them reach their goals.  

I never thought I could keep doing it from a coffee shop while unemployed. But it started happening organically after I set up my sign. 

One man I met told me he had been laid off after 10 years at the same company. He hadn’t touched a resume or sat in an interview in a decade, and the world had changed around him while he wasn’t looking. I’ve been helping him rebuild, including teaching him how to use AI so he can be a little more competitive in today’s job market. 

Another person I worked with landed a job quickly. When she shared the news, I felt excitement and relief for her and for me. It felt like proof that the homemade sign I’ve been lugging to the coffee shop three days a week for the last few months can not only make someone feel less alone, but also play a small part in changing the direction of their life.  

As for the woman from that first day, we talked, connected on LinkedIn and then she went quiet. I’ve never heard from her again, and I’ve made peace with that. The sign says “Let’s chat,” not “Let’s stay in touch.” 

Some people just need to know they have an invitation to talk, whether they take you up on it or not. Some need to walk past the sign a few times before they’re finally ready to sit down. Some people need to spend a few minutes sharing their layoff experience with a stranger they’ll never see again. 

It felt like I was getting real traction in my own job search over the summer — landing interviews and having conversations about potential opportunities — but then things went quiet. If I don’t get an offer soon, I’ll pick up some work with a friend’s events business through the holidays to stay busy and bring in some income. And I’ll keep setting up at the coffee shop with my sign.   

The biggest lesson I’ve learned from the brave people who’ve sat in The Open Chair is also the scariest: No one escapes the loneliness of being laid off.

Over more than four months of conversations, every single person who sat across from me described their version of the experience. The rejections. The ghosting. The feelings of going through this completely alone. It didn’t matter what industry they came from or how senior they were. 

But the loneliness starts to recede the moment two people are brave enough to be honest with each other, even if they’re strangers unexpectedly sharing their experiences over a cup of coffee. I’ve gotten to meet and connect with so many smart, driven people from every kind of background, and it fills my cup a hundred times over.

So if you ever see a sign like mine, pull up a chair. And if you don’t see one, make one, or reach out to someone you know who’s recovering from a layoff. It doesn’t take much to make someone feel a little bit less lonely, just an open invitation and the willingness to go first.

Kris Kealoha Giron has spent 25 years building and leading customer experience teams in HR and payroll software, from Intuit early in his career to Gusto, Salsa and Lumber. After his role was eliminated in a 2026 restructuring, he founded The Open Chair, offering free resume help, interview prep and conversation to people navigating layoffs. He lives in the Bay Area with his wife, and together they have four adult children.