The Walk of Shame

They walk you out.

Past the people you worked with. Past the desk where your stuff is. Past the kitchen where you made coffee this morning. Someone from security — or someone performing the role of security — walks two steps behind you like you just robbed the place.

You didn’t rob anything. You were robbed.

But the architecture of the exit makes it look like you did something wrong. The escort. The badge collection. The “we’ll ship your personal items.” All of it designed to make the departure look like a consequence rather than a decision someone else made.

The walk of shame isn’t shame. It’s theater. And the audience is everyone still at their desks, watching, learning the lesson the company is teaching without a word: this is what happens.