Your Role Was Made Redundant. Here's what to do in the next 72 hours.

TL;DR (*12–15 minutes of reading time.)

You were not deleted. Your role was. Most layoffs right now are structural. AI compresses workflows. Automation reduces coordination. Investors reward efficiency over expansion. If twelve people can now do the work of seven plus a few well-designed systems, the spreadsheet wins. That’s math, not morality.

The mistake most people make in the first 72 hours is motion. Updating the CV. Applying everywhere. Posting “Open to Work” and hoping velocity equals safety. It feels productive. It isn’t strategic.

Instead, slow down and design your next moves.

Figure out the specific problems you’re consistently good at solving. Then connect those problems to something businesses actually care about e.g. revenue, reducing risk, or keeping customers. Pick one or two clear lanes instead of trying to represent everything you’ve ever done.

Next, look at real job descriptions and study what they’re actually asking for. Then adjust your CV so it clearly shows proof that you’ve already solved those kinds of problems before. Choose specific companies instead of applying everywhere, and try to get a warm introduction before you submit anything. And finally, decide in advance how you’ll explain your redundancy, so you’re not improvising when the question comes up.

You’re not starting over. You’re repositioning your leverage in a system that just changed its rules. Those are very different games. The first 72 hours determine which one you play

The call lasted four minutes.

I know this because I checked afterward. Not during. During I was nodding, saying things like “I understand” and “that makes sense,” while my brain quietly detached from my body and floated somewhere near the ceiling.

There was a phrase about restructuring. Another about strategic focus. And then, very calmly, the sentence landed:

“Your role has been made redundant.”

It’s a strange sentence. It doesn’t accuse you of anything. It doesn’t praise you either. It just removes you from the equation.

Afterward, your brain does what brains do under threat: it runs forensic analysis.

Was this my fault? Did I miss signals? Should I have learned AI faster? Is everyone else quietly ahead of me? Am I behind?

That spiral is normal. It’s also not strategic.

Let’s zoom out for a moment.

A large percentage of layoffs right now are structural. AI is compressing workflows. Automation is reducing coordination overhead. Investors are rewarding efficiency over expansion. Companies that hired for scale are now hiring for margin. If something that required twelve people in 2021 can now be handled by seven plus a few well-designed AI workflows, the math wins.

That doesn’t mean you’re obsolete. It means the equation changed.

And when the equation changes, reacting emotionally is understandable. Responding structurally is more useful.

Hour 4–24: Don’t Mistake Motion for Strategy

Most people respond with activity. Update the CV. Apply everywhere. Post “Open to Work.” It feels like that should be enough.

At least it feels stabilising. It gives you something to do. It creates the illusion of control. But activity and leverage are not the same thing.

When I coach (Careersy Coaching) someone in the first week after redundancy, I don’t let them apply immediately. Not because they shouldn’t. Because they don’t yet understand what they are in the market.

Job titles disappear overnight. Patterns don’t.

When I ask someone what they did in their previous role, I usually get a responsibility list. Managed X. Led Y. Coordinated Z.

That’s documentation language.

The market doesn’t pay for responsibilities. It pays for problems being removed.

So instead of staying at the title level, I start narrowing things down. I’ll usually ask three deceptively simple questions: what did you actually do, what were you responsible for, and what measurable impact did you have?

The first two answers come quickly. Almost rehearsed. They’ll explain their scope. The cross-functional work. The stakeholders. The initiatives. It sounds competent. Solid. Impressive, even. Then I ask about impact.

There’s usually a pause…

Not a dramatic one. Just long enough for something to shift. You can see the internal recalculation happening.

All true. Also slightly foggy. And this is the moment that matters.

Because what’s quietly dawning on them isn’t that they lacked impact. It’s that they’ve never been forced to define it in economic terms. Inside a company, you can survive on context. Everyone already knows what you do. Everyone understands the moving parts. The market does not. So we slow it down.

If I removed your name from that team, what would have gotten worse? Slower? Riskier? More expensive? That’s usually when the realisation lands.

They’ll say something like, “Actually, whenever enterprise deals stalled, I got pulled in.” Or, “When the onboarding process broke, I was the one who redesigned it.” Or, “If I’m honest, I was the person people went to when leadership needed a decision translated into execution.”

And there it is. Not a title. A pattern. Not responsibilities. Leverage.

This is also where another tension surfaces.

“But I did a lot of things.”

Yes. You did. That’s the problem.

Inside a company, being multi-dimensional is valuable. You become the utility player, wearing multiple hats. The person who can step into ambiguity and make it smaller. That’s an asset. In a job search, it becomes blur.

If your CV reads like three careers sharing one document, the hiring manager, the recruiter, even the ATS system has to work to understand you. And right now, in a cautious market, nobody is volunteering for extra cognitive load.

So I usually say something mildly uncomfortable: let’s focus.

If you have multiple “heads” think product, operations, strategy, you need to pick one. Maybe two at most. Not because the others aren’t real. But because signal beats breadth.

At this point, you can almost hear the internal objection.

You’re not deleting your past. You’re choosing your entry point. And then I give them an assignment.

Find four job descriptions you genuinely like and feel aligned with. Not aspirational stretch roles. Not fantasy pivots. Roles where, if they called tomorrow, you could step in and perform.

Now read them carefully.

What language repeats? What outcomes are they emphasising? What problems are they clearly trying to solve?

This is usually where the second realisation happens.

Because instead of thinking, How do I describe myself? they start thinking, What are they actually looking for (or looking to solve)?

Your CV is not a historical archive. It’s a response document.

If you cannot communicate what you’ve done in a way that directly maps to the problem the role is solving, you will blend in with the majority of applicants who are technically capable but strategically vague. And when you blend in, the market defaults to safety (aka generic rejection email).

Which means someone who already looks like the close match gets the interview.

And you get a rejection that says, “We’ve decided to move forward with candidates whose experience more closely aligns.” That line doesn’t mean you weren’t good.

It means you weren’t obvious.

The goal is not to stretch into adjacent roles because they sound exciting. The goal is to create a tight match between what you’ve already proven and what they are actively paying to fix.

Close matches reduce risk. Reduced risk increases interviews. Interviews create options. And options are what you’re actually trying to regain.

Before you apply anywhere, write your pattern down in operational terms. Not motivational language. Not branding language. Operational language. What friction did you reduce? What constraint did you remove? What improved measurably because you intervened?

If you can’t answer that clearly, the market will answer it for you and it will probably default to something generic.

Hour 48–72: Tie Yourself to Revenue

Here’s the part people don’t love. If I’m honest, I don’t naturally love it either. My brain doesn’t wake up thinking in revenue flows and margin compression. I like building things. Solving problems. Giving candidates and clients the best possible service I can.

But companies think in money.

Organizations under pressure cut roles furthest from revenue, retention, or risk mitigation. That’s not cruelty. It’s budgeting. And AI has sharpened this lens because anything that looks repeatable or loosely defined now gets examined more closely. Can it be automated? Can it be augmented? Can it be done with fewer people?

So instead of asking, “Was I valuable?” ask something more precise:

Could an executive defend my role in one sentence tied directly to money?

If that question makes you slightly uncomfortable, good. It makes most people uncomfortable. Because inside a company, you can operate on context. Everyone knows your contribution. Everyone sees the moving parts.

The market doesn’t.

Most professionals describe outputs. “I built.” “I managed.” “I implemented.” Executives think in outcomes. Increased revenue. Reduced churn. Shortened sales cycles. Lowered risk.

The work may be identical. The framing changes the altitude.

And that framing often determines whether your role looks essential or optional when the spreadsheet gets tight.

After 72 Hours: Stop Spraying. Start Targeting.

Urgency will tell you to apply everywhere. Increase surface area. Something will stick.
Your internal voice might even get persuasive about it.

It sounds logical. It also turns you into a lottery ticket. Because when you apply everywhere, you stop being specific. And when you stop being specific, you become interchangeable.

Instead, slow it down. Write down 20 companies. 10 you would genuinely love to work for. 10 you would seriously consider. Real names. Not “anywhere hiring.” Not “remote startup, ideally well-funded, good culture, nice people.”

If you can’t list twenty, that’s not a failure. It just means you don’t have direction yet. And direction matters more than volume.

This is usually the moment when the second internal objection shows up.

You’re not limiting yourself. You’re choosing a battlefield.

Once you have the list, go company by company. Visit their job boards. Look at actual roles. Not hypothetical roles. Real ones with requirements and expectations attached.

Then open LinkedIn. Search the company. Click “People.” Filter by first-degree connections. This is where leverage already lives.

If you are one connection away from someone inside your target organization and you default to submitting an application through a portal instead of activating that connection, you are choosing the hardest path available.

Pro tip: One important detail: don’t apply first and then ask for a referral. I know the instinct. Let me just get it in quickly… then I’ll message them. But in many companies, once you apply through the portal, you’re locked in as a standard applicant. A referral afterward may not register properly in the system. Referrals shift how your application is treated.So reverse the order.

If you want the exact system I use to activate warm introductions (including scripts and sequencing), I’ve broken it down in The Careersy Connection Framework. You can download it here.

Reach out. Secure the referral. Then apply. Small sequencing choice. Big difference.

Look, cold applications aren’t useless. They’re just noisy (lots of applicants per role). Especially when hundreds of capable people were laid off in the same quarter. Warm introductions shift probabilities. Precision feels slower than volume. It also compounds better. Spraying feels productive. Targeting feels deliberate.

Only one of those builds leverage.

Beyond the First Week: Borrow the Market’s Language

Around this time, I ask people to do something slightly uncomfortable.

Message 5 to 7 people you worked with closely and ask: “When you think of me at my best, what stands out?”

You are not looking for praise. You’re looking for patterns. If multiple people independently describe you as calm under chaos, that’s signal. If they say you simplify complexity or build trust quickly with enterprise clients, that’s signal.

You don’t fully control your professional reputation. The market co-authors it. Use its language. It will sound more grounded because it is.

Your First Post Is Not a Farewell

Most redundancy posts read like goodbye speeches. Grateful. Reflective. Slightly vague. That’s socially appropriate.It’s strategically weak.

Your first public post is not about closure. It’s a positioning document.

It should communicate your scope (years, domain, geography), what you’ve delivered (quantified if possible), what you’re specifically strong at, and what you’re aiming for next.

The market responds to clarity, not need. You can add controlled humanity. “Was this expected? No. Was it personal? Also no. It was math.”That line signals stability. Stability is rare in moments like this.

Rare signals travel.

Here’s an example of a post a client of mine wrote a few months ago.
Notice the engagement it generated. That didn’t happen by accident. It was designed.

 

Before the Next Interview: Pre-Design the Answer

You will be asked what happened. If you haven’t designed the answer, adrenaline will improvise one. Keep it simple. Context. Impact. Direction.

“My role was eliminated as the company shifted toward AI-driven automation. I was leading X initiative and had just delivered Y outcome. I’m now focused on roles where solving Z problem is central.”

Calm. Forward-facing. No emotional leakage. AI is not magic. It’s leverage.

It rewards people who design systems and solve expensive problems. It squeezes work that is repetitive, loosely defined, or disconnected from economic outcomes.

If your previous role leaned heavily toward execution without clear business linkage, the market may reprice it. That’s not a moral judgment. It’s structural change.

Redundancy feels like rejection. Most of the time, it’s reallocation.

The real question isn’t “Who’s hiring?”

It’s simpler.

What problems do I reliably solve? What relevance can I bring to the next role? And what proof do I have that I already have the skills they need?

The first 72 hours feel chaotic. They’re actually design time.

You’re not starting over. You’re repositioning your utility in a market that changed the rules. And that’s a very different game one you can actually prepare for.