The department that turned firing into a growth opportunity.
The practice of making sure everyone feels welcome and valued at work, assuming "everyone" can navigate the 47 unwritten social rules required to survive the office kitchen. True inclusion is when the new person feels comfortable enough to take the last donut.
The fancy name for hiring that makes recruiting sound like a military operation or an art heist. We don't just post jobs -- we acquire talent, as if candidates are rare artifacts being extracted from rival organizations under cover of darkness.
A theoretical structure suggesting there's a clear path from entry-level to executive, when in reality it's more like a career jungle gym where half the rungs are missing and someone keeps greasing the ones that remain.
The corporate initiative of teaching employees new skills so the company doesn't have to hire people who already have them. It sounds empowering but usually means watching 40 hours of training videos at 2x speed while also doing your normal job.
The inflated number companies present to make your salary look bigger by adding in health insurance you can't use, stock that hasn't vested, and the "value" of free parking. It's the salary equivalent of counting the packaging as part of the product.
A euphemism for layoffs that implies the company was the wrong size before, like a pair of pants that needs tailoring. The people being let go are apparently excess fabric. It sounds strategic instead of devastating, which is the whole point.
The number of employees in an organization, reduced to a single dehumanizing number that makes layoffs sound like inventory management. When someone says "we need to reduce headcount," they mean real humans with mortgages, but the phrasing helps everyone sleep at night.
A professional relationship where a senior employee gives career advice to a junior employee, usually by telling them to do the exact opposite of what made the senior employee successful. The mentor gets to feel wise and the mentee gets anecdotes from 2003.
A conversation where a departing employee is asked to be brutally honest about the company, knowing full well the feedback will be filed somewhere between the recycling bin and oblivion. It's corporate theater at its finest.
The parting gift a company gives you when they fire you, calculated to be just generous enough that you'll sign the NDA without too many questions. It's the corporate equivalent of a breakup gift -- here's some money, please don't tell anyone what happened.
Objectives and Key Results, a goal-setting framework that promises alignment and accountability but mostly delivers quarterly arguments about what counts as a key result. It's the corporate New Year's resolution system -- set ambitiously in January, forgotten by March.
An adjective meaning your project involves people from different departments who have never spoken to each other and have conflicting priorities. Cross-functional collaboration is when everyone brings their own agenda to a meeting and calls it teamwork.
A term that manages to sound both dignified and dehumanizing simultaneously, reducing employees to assets on a balance sheet. It's the corporate way of saying "people are resources" without the self-awareness to realize how that sounds.
A formal document recording an employee's transgression that goes into their permanent file, which is HR's version of Santa's naughty list. Three write-ups and you're out, making corporate discipline feel like a baseball game where nobody's having fun.
Criticism disguised as helpfulness, delivered in a sandwich of compliments so thick you almost miss the part where they told you everything is wrong. The key word is "actionable," meaning you'd better actually do something about it or next time it won't be a sandwich, it'll be a written warning.
When employees leave on their own, which companies celebrate because it's cheaper than layoffs. The "voluntary" part is debatable when the work environment is so intolerable that quitting is less a choice and more a survival instinct.
A colorful diagram that shows who reports to whom, updated approximately never and accurate for about 48 hours after each reorganization. It's the corporate family tree, except family trees don't have dotted-line relationships.
HR's term for getting two coworkers to stop fighting long enough to fill out paperwork about the fight. It involves mediation, active listening, and pretending that a shared Google Doc about feelings will solve deep-seated professional resentment.
The administrative process of un-hiring someone, which involves revoking access, collecting laptops, and pretending the transition is seamless when everyone knows the departing employee was the only one who knew the Wi-Fi password.
The distance between what employees can actually do and what the company wishes they could do, which is somehow always the employee's problem to solve. The gap is usually bridged by a mandatory LinkedIn Learning course and sheer willpower.
The clinical, robotic word for firing someone that makes it sound like deactivating a piece of equipment. HR uses it because saying "we ended a human's livelihood" doesn't fit neatly in a dropdown menu.
Someone who quits dramatically, realizes the grass was just astroturf on the other side, and comes crawling back pretending the whole thing was a growth experience. Companies love them because re-hiring is cheaper than admitting the job posting was up for eight months.
The strategic process of predicting how many humans you'll need in the future, which is about as accurate as weather forecasting but with higher stakes. By the time the plan is finalized, three people have quit and the budget has been cut.
HR's gentle word for firing someone, borrowed from the language of divorce to make termination sound like a mutual decision. It implies both parties sat down and agreed to part ways when in reality one party did all the sitting and the other did all the parting.