I just got off the phone with my friend, a seasoned engineer marooned in the asphalt sprawl of Southern California, who sounded like a man peering over the edge of an economic cliff with a pair of shaky binoculars. The view? Grim. The engineering sector—usually a stalwart of rational planning and concrete outcomes—is now gripped by the wobbly-kneed fear of an incoming recession. Hiring freezes are spreading like a case of financial frostbite, and everyone’s waiting for the other steel-toed boot to drop.
The culprits? Our beloved government’s carnival of tariff acrobatics—somersaults, swan dives, and the occasional flaming hoop—leaving the business sector in a state of chronic vertigo. With policy shifting by the hour and no clear sense of direction, companies are curling inward like startled armadillos, refusing to hire or spend, while consumers clutch their wallets like Victorian widows clutching pearls.
Just a month ago, my friend had a juicy job offer on the table—complete with perks, prestige, and a corner office view of existential dread. He was mulling it over with the quiet satisfaction of a man whose talents were finally being recognized. But now? That same company has ghosted him like a bad Tinder date, citing “market uncertainty” and initiating a hiring freeze. Translation: they’ve lost their nerve and joined the swelling ranks of firms slamming shut the doors like it’s a zombie apocalypse.
His current job, for now, is safe. But the interns? Sacrificed at the altar of “cost-cutting measures.” And his planned splurge—a shiny $50K car meant to serve as both reward and statement piece—has been downgraded to a practical vow of austerity. No V6 joyrides, no heated leather seats, just a cold reminder that in this economy, survival is the new luxury.
“I’m just lucky to still be employed,” he said, with all the enthusiasm of a man clinging to a lifeboat made of unpaid invoices and canceled bonuses.
Cinemorphosis 