You hear it all the time—“Don’t mix work and friendship.” “Coworkers are not your friends.” But honestly? I didn’t believe it. I thought I was different. I thought I had built real relationships at my job, that the people I worked with had my back. Turns out, I was an idiot. Because the second things got complicated, the second there was a choice between loyalty to me or loyalty to him, guess what they picked? Not me.

It all started with a post. Just one stupid post. I wasn’t even that harsh, just some light criticism, some questioning about the way things were being handled at the biggest electric car company in America. You know, open discussion—the kind of thing we were all encouraged to have. Or so I thought. But the second my words hit that cursed blue bird app, the tone changed. The same people who laughed in the break room, who shared memes about all the chaos, who agreed with me in private DMs, suddenly weren’t on my side anymore. They saw my post, they saw my name attached to it, and instead of scrolling past or maybe even messaging me like, “Dude, maybe delete that,” they went straight to reporting me.

Next thing I know, I’m pulled into a “meeting.” No warning, no real discussion. Just straight to the point. “You’ve been engaging in behavior that is not aligned with company values.” Oh, company values? You mean the same company values that encouraged employees to always challenge the status quo, to be “bold” and “speak their minds”? Guess that only applies when you're kissing the ring, huh? Because the minute you question the self-proclaimed genius billionaire, suddenly you're not bold—you're a problem.

I sat there, staring at them, wondering if this was a joke. I mean, I wasn’t the only one complaining. We all talked about the unrealistic deadlines, the insane pressure, the way everything had to revolve around one man’s impulsive tweets. I just happened to be dumb enough to say it where he could see it. And my friends—the ones who shared my frustrations, who vented right along with me—what did they do? They snitched. They forwarded my post, flagged it, escalated it. Why? To score points? To save their own asses? Maybe they thought throwing me under the bus would make them look like good little soldiers, obedient workers in the empire of a guy who calls himself a free speech absolutist but fires anyone who dares criticize him. Maybe they were just scared.

I walked out of that building with a cardboard box and a pit in my stomach, not because I lost the job (honestly, I’d been thinking about leaving anyway), but because I realized how fake it all was. The inside jokes, the happy hours, the shared eye-rolls in meetings—none of it meant anything when it came down to it. The moment things got real, they chose the billionaire overlord with weird Nazi fanboy energy over the guy they used to grab lunch with.

And I get it. People gotta protect themselves. No one wants to be on the wrong side of the guy who reinstates fascist accounts on social media and spends more time posting memes than running a company. But damn, I thought at least one of them would’ve had my back. Instead, they smiled to my face, then sent my post straight up the chain. So yeah, lesson learned. Coworkers are not your friends. No matter how much you laugh together, no matter how many times you grab a beer after work, at the end of the day, when it’s you or them, they’ll choose themselves every time. And I won’t make that mistake again.

F**k you, Elon & my team 😘

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