Challenge
After a Layoff — Eight Things You Can Do
Eight concrete things you can do when someone you care about — a friend, sibling, parent, adult child — has been laid off. Front-loaded for the first hard week, then weekly for the long search that often follows. Whether their layoff was last week or three months ago, start anywhere.
Don't ask if they want help. Offer two specific things and let them pick.
Reach out without solving
Minimum that counts: Send one text today. Something like "I heard about the layoff. I'm sorry. No need to reply — just wanted you to know I'm here." If you didn't message in the first week, send it now anyway. "I've been thinking about you and wanted to check in" works at any timeline.
Full version (if you have capacity): Offer two specific options, not open-ended. "I can drop dinner Tuesday or do a call Wednesday — what's easier?" Open-ended "let me know if you need anything" puts the work on them; two-option choices let them pick without thinking.
Take one practical thing off their plate
Minimum that counts: Pick one and do it without asking what they need (they don't know): drop off a meal, send a grocery gift card, cover one bill this month, take their kids for an afternoon, walk their dog. One specific thing, delivered. "Grabbed you groceries — they're on the porch" beats "let me know how I can help."
Full version (if you have capacity): If you live nearby and the layoff is fresh, offer a 30-minute admin slot — cancel a subscription, draft a severance follow-up email to HR, sit with them while they file unemployment. One task, done together.
Validate without pep-talking
Minimum that counts: Send or say one line that names the weight and refuses to fix it. Something like "This is a lot. You don't have to spin it into a growth opportunity today." Or "There's no good time to lose a job. This is just rough." No silver linings. No "everything happens for a reason." Just naming what's true.
Full version (if you have capacity): Ask one preference question — "Do you want to vent, be distracted, or brainstorm?" — and follow their answer for 15–20 minutes. Don't drift back to fixing if they picked vent or distract.
Offer to be a reference or proofreader
Minimum that counts: Tell them you're a reference if they want one. "Use me as a reference. Email and phone are [yours] — say yes whenever you need to." Done in a single text. Most people wait to be asked; just offer.
Full version (if you have capacity): Offer to proofread one specific thing by a specific time. "Send me your resume by Friday and I'll read it over the weekend" beats "happy to look at anything you write." Specific = they'll send it. Vague = they won't.
Check in once — without making it about the job
Minimum that counts: Send one text this week that asks how they are, not how the search is. "How are you doing this week?" or "Saw [thing that reminded me of you] — thinking of you." The job-search question — "any interviews?" — is the one everyone else is asking. Be the one who doesn't.
Full version (if you have capacity): Plan a no-job-talk hang. Movie, walk, takeout. Make it explicit: "We don't have to talk about the search at all unless you want to." The relief of one evening off the topic is real.
Help with one job-search task — pick one
Minimum that counts: Pick ONE small task and offer to do it with them in 20–30 minutes: review their resume for impact bullets (numbers, outcomes) and suggest 3–5 fixes; help rewrite their LinkedIn headline; co-write a two-sentence layoff-explanation line they can use in interviews. One thing, time-boxed. Don't offer to "help with the whole search."
Full version (if you have capacity): Do one networking favor — make one warm intro (only if they're open to it), or send them three job postings that actually fit. Specific names beat "let me know who you want to talk to."
Show up after the first wave fades
Minimum that counts: Send one text in the third or fourth week after the layoff. "Still thinking about you. How's this week landing?" By now most of the first-wave support has dried up and the search is dragging. Your message arrives in a desert. It matters more than the first one did.
Full version (if you have capacity): Plan one in-person thing — coffee, a walk, dinner — and put it in the calendar. Something to look forward to in a week that otherwise has no shape.
Name what you've seen in them
Minimum that counts: Send a short message naming two or three specific things you admire that aren't job-related. Something like "You're one of the steadiest people I know. The way you handled [specific thing] last year — that's who you are, not what your job title was." Layoff scrambles identity; specific non-job praise puts it back.
Full version (if you have capacity): Write it longer — a card, an email, a voice memo. Name a specific moment where you saw them at their best. They'll keep it. They'll re-read it on the harder days.
At the end
Eight actions, spread across the first hard week and the longer search that follows. The layoff still happened. The job still hasn't appeared. But somewhere in the rhythm of your check-ins, the meal you brought, the resume bullet you fixed, the reference you offered — they felt seen, not just sorry-ed at. That's the work. Keep showing up at whatever cadence you can sustain.