Not getting fired in a technology company isn't about playing it safe—it’s about being astutely human in environments that increasingly reward speed, adaptability, and unspoken social fluency as much as raw technical skill. You can be brilliant, even exceptional at what you do, but if you're not tuned into the subtleties of the workplace, the politics of communication, or the emotional temperature of your team, brilliance alone won’t shield you. The truth is, the rules aren't written down anywhere. They're whispered in how a manager glances during a meeting, or how your teammates go silent when certain topics come up. It's in whether people include you in spontaneous chats, or leave your name off an invite because you're “not necessary.” Those invisible cues mean everything. Staying employed in tech, especially during periods of layoffs or internal restructuring, has as much to do with presence as performance. People remember how you made them feel in high-stakes situations—whether you were calm when others panicked, helpful when it wasn't your job, honest when silence would have been safer. And then there’s the work itself. In many roles, it’s not enough to just do your tasks—what matters is the *perceived value* of what you do. Are you solving problems that someone important thinks are worth solving? Are you reducing pain for your manager, making their life easier? Because in uncertain times, managers don't advocate for “solid contributors,” they fight to keep the ones they can’t imagine losing. It’s brutal, but real. Visibility without ego is a delicate art. You want your contributions to be known, but never come across as someone constantly pointing at their own work. The best position is when other people advocate for you because your impact is undeniable and not performative. Relationships matter deeply, more than most tech folks care to admit. It’s tempting to believe that code is neutral, and output speaks for itself—but it doesn’t. Who you know, and how those people feel about you, plays into who stays and who goes. It’s not about being fake or overly social—it’s about being someone who’s remembered as reliable, thoughtful, and low-drama. You want to be in people’s mental map when they think, *“Who do I trust when everything’s on fire?”* At the same time, psychological safety is a currency too. If you’re in an environment where you feel like you're constantly auditioning for your own job, something’s broken—and not necessarily with you. Still, in large tech orgs, that’s sometimes the reality, and surviving in that atmosphere means finding a balance between your own sanity and the expectations you quietly absorb. Sometimes, being safe means knowing when to push back and when to let something slide. It’s a dance of conscience and context. Ultimately, staying employed in tech is about seeing the company as a living organism. It doesn't think—it reacts. It rewards what it understands. It keeps people who anticipate needs before they’re spoken. It cuts those who isolate themselves, or who challenge power without strategy. It’s unfair, sometimes arbitrary, but navigable—if you remember that you’re working with *people*, not just systems. So: show up like a person. Listen deeply. Stay curious, stay grounded. And always, always, make the people around you feel like their world is a little more stable because you’re in it.