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My Boss Fired Me For "Being Too Expensive" After 18 Years Leading Engineering; His Panicked Calls...
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We can get three junior engineers for
your salary, he smirked during my
termination meeting. Nothing personal,
just cost
cutting. My name is Victor Hail, 55
years old, lead systems engineer at
Veltria Housing for 18 years. I'd built
their entire infrastructure from
scratch, architected every expansion,
kept everything running so smoothly that
the executives forgot how much the
company depended on me until they
decided they couldn't afford me anymore.
I sat across from Graham Vickers, the
new chief technology officer who'd been
with the company for all of 6 months. He
was 42, wore designer glasses, and had
an MBA from Cornell. He'd been brought
in to modernize operations, which
apparently meant cutting the most
experienced staff first. The severance
package is generous, said Diane from
human resources, sliding a folder across
the table. 2 months salary plus your
acred vacation time. I nodded, took the
folder, and said, "Thank you. Is that
all you have to say?" Graham looked
almost disappointed.
Maybe he'd expected me to argue or
threaten legal action. Give him
something to tell the board about how
difficult I was
being. "What would you like me to say?
Most people in your position have
questions,
concerns," I shrugged. "Seems pretty
straightforward to me." Graham exchanged
glances with Diane, who looked equally
perplexed by my calm. What they didn't
understand was that I wasn't calm. I was
just done. There's a difference. Well,
we'd appreciate your help with the
transition, Graham continued. The new
engineering team will need some guidance
on the system architecture. Perhaps a
consulting arrangement for a few weeks.
I'll think about it, I said, knowing I
wouldn't. We shook hands. I cleared out
my desk without complaint. 18 years of
work fit into a single cardboard box. I
nodded goodbye to a few colleagues who
looked away awkwardly, afraid the same
fate awaited them. As I walked to my
truck in the parking garage, my phone
buzzed. A text from Allen, the database
administrator I'd hired 12 years ago.
This is Vic. The whole team's
freaking out. I didn't respond. At home,
I sat on my deck overlooking Lake
Ontario, nursing a glass of bourbon,
watching the sunset paint the water
copper. My wife Elaine placed a hand on
my shoulder. "What will you do now?" I
shrugged. "Something will turn up." What
Graham didn't know, what he hadn't
bothered to learn, was that I hadn't
just built their systems. I had
customcoded large sections myself with
minimal documentation because the
company had always refused to fund a
proper documentation team. only I
understood the deep redundancies, the
hidden security layers, the intricate
network architecture, and I wasn't
planning to explain it to anyone. Now, I
started at Veltria Housing back when it
was called Bay View Properties, a small
real estate management firm with four
apartment complexes and a dozen
employees. Their entire IT
infrastructure consisted of two desktop
computers, a fax machine, and a dial-up
internet connection. The owner, Harold
Bay, hired me away from a consulting gig
in
Syracuse. We're expanding, he told me.
Need someone who can build us something
solid. Over 18 years, I'd turned that
rudimentary setup into an integrated
property management system that handled
everything from tenant applications and
background checks to automated
maintenance requests and rent collection
across 63 properties in four states. I'd
built it piece by piece, adapting,
upgrading, refining as the company grew.
When Harold retired 5 years ago, his son
Justin sold the company to a private
equity firm that rebranded it as Veltria
Housing. They kept me on, impressed by
what I'd built. But things began to
change. New executives, new priorities,
quarterly targets became more important
than long-term stability. My warning
signs came
gradually. First, they rejected my
proposal for a documentation team. Too
expensive, they said. we'll get to it
next quarter. That quarter never came.
Then they started bringing in
consultants, young MBA types who talked
about disrupting property management and
leveraging cloud solutions. They'd sit
through my explanations of our system
architecture with glazed eyes, then
recommend off-the-shelf solutions that
wouldn't integrate with our custom
infrastructure.
I kept pushing back, explaining why
their approach wouldn't work, showing
them the custom code that made our
system unique. Eventually, they stopped
inviting me to planning meetings. Elaine
noticed it before I did. "They're
pushing you out," she said one night
over dinner. "You need to
prepare." I brushed her off. "They need
me. No one else understands how the
whole system works together."
That might be exactly the problem, she
replied. 6 months ago, they hired Graham
as the new CTO. He came from a banking
software company and immediately started
talking about standardization and legacy
system replacement. He hired three
junior engineers fresh out of college.
Had them shadowing me, asking questions
about the system. I answered their
questions, but I knew they weren't
grasping the complexities. How could
they? It had taken me years to build
those systems to understand the
interdependencies to create the
redundancies that kept everything
running smoothly when problems
arose. Last week, Graham stopped by my
office. Quick meeting tomorrow morning,
he said
casually. Just a quarterly
check-in. I should have seen it coming.
The first call came 2 weeks after my
termination. I was in my home office
updating my resume when my phone rang.
Graham Vickers. I let it go to
voicemail. Victor, it's Graham. We're
having some issues with the tenant
portal. The junior team is working on
it, but they're having trouble
understanding some of your code
architecture. Could you give us a call
back? It would just be a quick
consultation. I deleted the message and
went back to my
resume. Three more calls came that day,
each voicemail sounding increasingly
desperate. By evening, Allan texted me.
Systems been down all day. Maintenance
requests aren't processing. Graham's
losing his mind. The next morning, Diane
from HR called. Victor, I hope you're
doing well. I'm calling because we'd
like to discuss a consulting
arrangement, just temporary, to help
with some current system issues. The
compensation would be quite generous. I
picked up my phone. How generous? $300
per hour, minimum 4-hour engagement.
I'll think about it and get back to
you," I said, then hung up. I sat at my
kitchen table, staring out at the lake.
Elaine placed a cup of coffee in front
of me. "What are you thinking?" "I'm
thinking they're finding out exactly
what I'm
worth." Over the next 3 days, the calls
increased. Graham, Diane, even Justin
Bayiew, who was still on the board. The
tenant portal was down. The maintenance
scheduling system was throwing errors.
The automatic payment processing had
failed, affecting thousands of
residents. I didn't respond to any of
them. On day four, an email arrived from
Devlin Systems, a regional competitor to
Veltria. They managed fewer properties,
but had been expanding rapidly. The
email was from their director of
technology, Lawrence Develin himself.
Victor, I heard about your situation at
Veltria. We've always admired your work
from afar. Would you be interested in
discussing opportunities with us? We're
looking to upgrade our entire property
management infrastructure. I replied and
set up a meeting for the following day.
That evening, as Elaine and I were
preparing dinner, my doorbell rang.
Graham Vickers stood on my porch, his
designer glasses slightly a skew, his
normally immaculate suit wrinkled.
Victor, I apologize for dropping by
unannounced, but we have an emergency
situation. The entire system is down.
Nothing is working. The team can't
figure out what's wrong or how to fix
it. I leaned against the door frame.
That sounds serious. It is. We need your
help. The board has authorized me to
offer you a substantial consulting fee.
$500 per hour, whatever it
takes. I thought about the cardboard box
in my garage. 18 years of work reduced
to a few momentos. I thought about
nothing personal, just cost cutting. I
thought about the documentation team.
They'd never approved. I'm sorry to hear
about your troubles, I said quietly. But
I have an interview tomorrow. Something
will turn up just like I thought. I
closed the door on his stunned face and
went back to making dinner. For the
first time since my termination, I felt
a sense of peace wash over me. Not
satisfaction, not vindication, just
clarity.
I wasn't going to help them fix what
they'd broken. The interview with
Lawrence Develin went better than
expected. We met at a coffee shop in
downtown Rochester, away from both
companies offices. I've followed your
work for years, Lawrence said, stirring
his coffee. That integrated property
management system you built at Veltria
is legendary in our industry. Nobody
else has anything close to it. Thank
you, I said. It took time. That's what I
want to talk about time. We're looking
to build something similar, but we don't
want to start from scratch. We need
someone who understands the
architecture, the integration points,
the security layers. Someone who can
build us something better than what's
out there. I'm
interested. Lawrence smiled. Good,
because I'm prepared to offer you the
position of chief systems architect.
Full benefits, stock options, and a
salary 20% higher than what you were
making at Veltria. It was a good offer.
Too good
almost. Why me? I asked. There are
younger engineers out there, cheaper
ones. Lawrence laughed. You sound like
your former employer. We tried that
route. Hired three bright young
engineers from top schools. They built
us something sleek and modern that
crashes every time we get more than a
100 simultaneous users. We don't need
cheap, we need
reliable. I accepted the offer the next
day.
Meanwhile, Veltria's problems were
escalating. Allan kept me updated
through occasional texts. The system had
been partially restored, but critical
functions were still failing. They'd
brought in an expensive consulting firm
that specialized in legacy system
recovery. A week after I started at
Delin, Graham called again. Victor,
please, this is getting serious. We've
lost access to payment records for the
past 3 months. Tenants are complaining
about incorrect charges. The consulting
team says they need your input on the
database structure. I was tempted to
ignore it, but something made me pick
up. Graham, I'm employed elsewhere now.
Exclusive contract. I'm afraid I can't
help you. We'll double whatever they're
paying you for just 2 days of your time.
It's not about the money. Then what is
it about revenge? Are you enjoying
watching us struggle? I paused,
considering my answer carefully. No,
Graham, I'm not enjoying it. But you
made a business decision. You decided my
experience wasn't worth the cost. Now
you're discovering what that actually
means. The board wants to discuss
bringing you back. Full salary plus a
signing bonus. For a moment, I felt a
flicker of satisfaction, but it quickly
faded. Going back would solve nothing.
The same executives who decided I was
expendable would be waiting for the next
opportunity to cut costs.
I appreciate the offer, but I've made a
commitment to Develin Systems. Graham's
voice hardened. You know, there could be
legal implications if we discover you
intentionally made our systems difficult
to maintain. Non-compete clauses,
intellectual property
concerns. There it was, the threat I'd
been expecting. The system is exactly as
it was when the company repeatedly
denied my requests for a documentation
team. I replied evenly. Every line of
code belongs to Veltria as specified in
my employment contract. I've taken
nothing with me except my experience,
but feel free to have your lawyers
contact mine." I hung up, hands shaking
slightly, not from fear, but from anger
I hadn't allowed myself to feel until
now. The accusation that I'd somehow
sabotaged them was the final insult. At
Devlin, I was starting fresh, building
systems properly from the ground up with
full documentation, training programs
for the engineering team, and
redundancies that would prevent the kind
of catastrophe was experiencing. I
wasn't going to look back anymore, but I
wasn't going to help them either. Some
lessons had to be learned the hard way.
A month after joining Devlin Systems, I
received an unexpected visitor in my new
office. Alan, my former database
administrator, stood awkwardly in the
doorway holding a laptop bag. "Got time
for lunch?" he asked. "Over sandwiches
at a nearby deli?" Allan filled me in on
the chaos at Veltria. "It's worse than
you think," he said, lowering his voice
despite the noisy lunchtime crowd.
"They've lost access to historical data
going back 3 years. The backup systems
are corrupted somehow. The consulting
firm is saying they might need to
rebuild from scratch. I wasn't
surprised. The backup system had
multiple redundancies and security
protocols that needed to be followed
precisely. Skip one step and the entire
process would fail in a way designed to
protect tenant data from unauthorized
access. That's not all, Alan
continued. I found something when I was
trying to help the consultants
understand the payment processing
system. Graham had been planning your
termination for months. He'd been
meeting with the board, convincing them
that your custom infrastructure was too
expensive to
maintain. How do you know this? Allan
pulled out his laptop and showed me a
series of emails he discovered in the
system archives. Emails between Graham
and the board discussing the legacy
staff reduction plan and specifically
naming me as the first target. He told
them they could replace you with cheaper
engineers and transition to
off-the-shelf solutions within 6 months,
Allan said. He projected cost savings of
over a million dollars
annually. I read through the emails,
feeling a strange
detachment. One line from Graham stood
out. Hail's custom systems are
unnecessarily complex. He's made himself
indispensable by design, not
necessity. There's more. Allan said the
private equity firm that owns Veltria is
planning to sell. They've been prepping
for this for over a year. Graham was
brought in specifically to cut costs and
make the company look more profitable
before the sale. Now it all made sense.
The push for standardization, the
resistance to proper documentation, the
sudden focus on reducing senior staff
costs. It wasn't about improving the
company. It was about dressing it up for
a quick flip.
Why are you showing me this? I asked.
Alan closed his laptop. Because I quit
yesterday and I'm not the only one. Half
the IT department has left. The
consultants are estimating at least 6
months to restore full functionality,
maybe longer. He
hesitated. And because Veltria's biggest
client, Westbrook Properties, is
considering jumping ship, they've lost
faith in the management system. I
thought about the implications.
Westbrook represented nearly 30% of
Veltria's revenue. Losing them would be
devastating, especially with a sale
pending. "What will you do now?" I
asked. Alan grinned. "Actually, I was
hoping Devlin might be hiring database
administrators." Later that afternoon, I
spoke with Lawrence about bringing Allen
on board. He agreed immediately. We were
building a team brick by brick with
people who understood what it meant to
create systems that lasted. That
evening, I received another call from
Graham. This time, his voice had lost
its authoritative edge. Victor, please.
The situation is critical. Westbrook is
threatening to terminate their contract.
The board is questioning my decisions.
We need your help. I'm sorry, Graeme. I
can't help you. Name your price.
Anything. It's not about price. It's
about respect for experience, for the
work that goes into building something
right the first time. The line was
silent for a moment. You knew this would
happen, he said finally. You knew
exactly what would break and
when. No, Graham. I just knew what I had
built and what it took to maintain it.
Information I tried to share many times.
I ended the call feeling neither triumph
nor regret. just the quiet certainty
that some lessons can only be learned
through failure. The opportunity came
faster than I
expected. Two months into my role at
Devlin Systems, Lawrence called me into
his office. "I just got off the phone
with Jeffrey Westbrook," he said,
referring to the CEO of Westbrook
Properties. "They're officially
terminating their contract with Veltria
next month. They want to know if we can
handle their portfolio." Westbrook
Properties managed over 10,000 units
across the Northeast. It would more than
double Develin's current
operations. We're not ready for that
kind of scale, I admitted. The new
system is coming along, but it's only
halfway there. Lawrence leaned forward.
What would it take to get ready if we
had to? I thought about it. Three more
senior engineers, dedicated server
infrastructure, and at least 8 weeks of
development time. Even then, it would be
tight. Jeffrey's desperate. Veltria's
failures are affecting their reputation
with tenants. He's willing to give us 12
weeks and fund the infrastructure
expansion. This was the moment, the
turning point. If Devlin took on
Westbrook and succeeded, it would
establish us as a serious competitor in
the industry. If we failed, it could
sink both companies. Let me think about
the architecture, I said. I'll drop a
plan by
tomorrow. That night, I barely slept. I
sketched system diagrams, mapped data
migration pathways, considered scaling
challenges. By morning, I had a plan,
ambitious but achievable, a hybrid
approach that would let us onboard
Westbrook's properties in stages,
minimizing
disruption. When I presented it to
Lawrence, he studied it
carefully. This is solid, he said
finally. But I notice you've included a
substantial documentation phase that
adds 3 weeks to the timeline. It's
non-negotiable, I replied. That's where
Veltria failed. We document everything
from day one. We train the team on every
component. No single points of failure.
Lawrence nodded. I'll take your word for
it. Let's move
forward. The next weeks were intense. We
hired five more engineers, including two
who had recently left Veltria. Alan
built a database migration tool that
could translate Veltria's data structure
into our new system. I designed a
modular architecture that could scale
with Westbrook's needs. Halfway through
the project, I received an email from
Justin Bayiew, the former owner's son,
who still sat on Veltria's
board. Victor, I want to apologize for
how things ended. The board was misled
about the implications of letting you
go. Graham has been removed as CTO.
We're struggling to recover and
Westbrook's departure will hit us hard.
If you're ever interested in coming
back, the door is open. I didn't
respond. 10 weeks into our 12week
timeline, we were ready for a staged
roll out. Westbrook's smallest region
comprising 2,000 units in Western New
York would migrate first. If successful,
the remaining regions would follow. The
day before the migration, Lawrence
called me into his office again. A
familiar face was waiting. Jeffrey
Westbrook himself. "So, you're the
system architect?" Jeffrey said,
standing to shake my hand. Lawrence has
told me a lot about you. "All good, I
hope," Jeffrey smiled. "He says you've
built us something that won't break down
every time we add a new property,
something that will grow with us. That's
the plan. I also hear you used to work
for
Veltria. I nodded, unsure where he was
going with this. They're in trouble, you
know. The private equity firm is trying
to sell, but with Westbrook leaving and
their system still not fully functional.
They're not finding many interested
buyers. He
paused. Except one. Who's that? I asked,
though I suspected the answer. Devlin
Systems, Lawrence said. were considering
making an offer at a substantial
discount to what they were valued at 6
months ago. I looked between them,
processing the
implications. If that happens, Jeffrey
continued, we'd want someone who
understands both companies to lead the
integration. Someone who could salvage
what's valuable from Veltria's
infrastructure while transitioning
everything to your new architecture. Are
you asking if I'd be willing to work on
that? I clarified. Lawrence nodded.
only if the acquisition goes through and
only if you're comfortable with it. I
thought about the irony. The system I'd
built, the people I'd trained, the
company that had discarded me, all
potentially coming back under my
direction. I'd be willing, I said
finally. But I have one condition. We do
it right. Full documentation, proper
training, no
shortcuts. Agreed. Lawrence said, "We've
learned that lesson.
As I walked back to my office, I felt no
vindication, no desire for revenge, just
the simple satisfaction of knowing that
good work done right eventually speaks
for
itself. 6 months later, I stood in the
lobby of what had once beenria Housing's
headquarters. The sign now read Delin
Integrated Property Management. The
acquisition had gone through for less
than a quarter of what the company had
been valued at before my departure.
Lawrence and I walked through the office
greeting former Veltria employees who
would be staying on through the
transition. Some looked away awkwardly.
Others smiled with relief. A few, those
who had worked closely with me over the
years, nodded with quiet
understanding. Graham was gone along
with most of the executive team that had
approved my termination. Justin Bayiew
had stayed on as a consultant, helping
ease the transition with legacy clients.
When we reached the server room, my old
domain, I paused. Through the glass, I
could see the hardware I'd specified,
the blinking lights of systems I'd
designed. "Want to go in?" Lawrence
asked. "No need," I replied. "We'll be
migrating everything to the new
infrastructure anyway." In the main
conference room, the remaining Veltria
staff had gathered for the announcement.
Lawrence introduced me as the chief
integration officer who would be
overseeing the technical transition.
"Many of you already know Victor," he
said. "He built the original systems
that ran this company for nearly two
decades. Now he'll be guiding us through
the integration of both companies
technologies into something better than
either had
before." As I looked out at the faces,
some familiar, some new, I felt no
triumph, no desire to say, "I told you
so." What would be the point? Instead, I
spoke briefly about the transition plan,
the timeline, the support that would be
available to everyone during the
process. I emphasized that no one would
be left behind due to cost cutting
measures. The irony wasn't lost on
anyone in the room. One year after the
acquisition, Devlin Integrated Property
Management had become the largest
property management company in the
Northeast. The migration was complete
with all properties now running on the
new system I designed, fully documented,
properly staffed, and functioning
smoothly. On a crisp autumn morning, I
drove to the office for a final meeting
with Lawrence. "The leaves along Lake
Ontario had turned brilliant shades of
red and gold, a fitting backdrop for the
conclusion of this
chapter." "The board approved your
proposal," Lawrence said as soon as I
sat down. The technical education
division will launch next quarter.
You'll have full autonomy to design the
curriculum and hire
instructors. This had been my condition
for staying after the integration was
complete. Not a higher title or more
money, but the creation of a division
dedicated to training the next
generation of systems engineers and
architects, teaching them not just how
to code, but how to build things meant
to last. Thank you. I said that means a
lot. No, thank you, Lawrence replied.
What you've built here, it's remarkable.
Not just the technology, but the culture
around it, the documentation, the
knowledge sharing, the emphasis on
quality over quick
fixes. Later that afternoon, I cleared
out my integration office. Unlike my
hasty exit from Veltria, this was a
planned transition to my new role. As I
packed my things, Justin Bay View
knocked on the door. "Got a minute?" he
asked. We walked to the small courtyard
outside the building. "My father asked
about you," he said. "He's retired in
Florida now, but he still follows
company news. He was glad to hear you
were back in a manner of speaking." "How
is Harold?" I asked. "Good. Fishing a
lot." Justin paused. He always said
letting you go would be the biggest
mistake this company could make. Turns
out he was right. I nodded, unsure what
to say. I learned something from all
this. Justin continued, "Value isn't
always visible until it's gone. As I
drove home along the lake shore, I
thought about value, of experience, of
care taken, of doing things right the
first time, about systems built to last
and the people who build them. I hadn't
sought revenge. I hadn't needed to. I'd
simply moved forward, building something
better, something that would outlast any
individual decision or short-term
thinking. Sometimes the best response to
being undervalued is simply to prove
your worth elsewhere and let the results
speak for themselves.
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