Cierra Desmaratti
This as-told-to conversation is based on a conversation with Cierra Desmaratti, a 25-year-old actuarial analyst from Miami. It's been edited for length and clarity.
When I received a call from a Deloitte representative saying I'd landed a post-grad job as an actuarial analyst, I was ecstatic. It wasn't just the job; it was the safety that would come with it.
I was raised in a low-income family in Naperville, Illinois, and financially supported myself throughout my time at North Central College. Getting this job meant I could finally take a breath and be normal.
But I felt anything but normal at Deloitte. I felt like I had to dim my personality to fit in with my peers and struggled to hit my stride in the consulting firm's fast-paced hustle culture.
Then I got laid off. It was a dark time, but it ultimately made me realize what I deserve from my career.
I was onboarded at Deloitte's Chicago headquarters in September 2021 alongside 80 to 90 fresh hires. I remember looking around at my peers dressed in pressed suit jackets and designer pieces and feeling immediately out of place. The T.J. Maxx clothes I wore had been a splurge, but I no longer felt like they were adequate.
I tried making small talk with those around me and quickly realized appearances weren't the only way I stuck out. Everyone seemed to be bonding over their big-name colleges and Big 4 internships, exchanging anecdotes I simply couldn't relate to.
I came from a liberal arts university and had gotten the job through the International Association of Black Actuaries, a close collaborator with Deloitte. During my senior year, I submitted my résumé to the IABA handbook and was chosen by a Deloitte recruiter for an interview. A week later, I'd secured the job. It felt like a dream come true.
When my new colleagues asked where I went to school, I'd say North Central College, but they had never heard of it.
It seemed like many of my peers had also informally networked with people from their colleges or internships and found housing together in the Chicago area. They came in like a clique, and I felt like the new kid trying to find a place to sit in the cafeteria.
I got along with people for the most part in the beginning because we all were just bonding over the excitement of a new job, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was an outsider.
After a few weeks of onboarding, I started a six-month project as an auditor for a life insurance client.
I had a weekly progress check-in with my coach, but I was expected to figure out most of my work independently. My coach was only part-time on my project and made it clear she was busy, so I was wary about bothering her unless it was crucial.
Looking back, I regret not advocating for myself.
Because my day-to-day tasks were so isolating, I took advantage of every in-person event possible. My department hosted regular networking events and happy hours, plus a monthly luncheon with a Deloitte leader open to anyone who RSVP'd. These events were something I enjoyed about Deloitte, and I was excited to build some face-to-face connections.
But it didn't take long to notice that only traditionally masculine topics seemed acceptable at social events. My colleagues would roar about their sports teams and banter endlessly about March Madness, college football, ski trips they'd taken, and marathons they were running.
It made sense that those were topics of conversation because they're socially acceptable hobbies, especially in a predominantly white, male workplace. But I didn't feel like there was space to express my femininity.
At one of my first happy hours, I was sitting at a table with colleagues when a senior consultant remarked that intelligent people wouldn't bother engaging in silly things like crystals and astrology. Taken aback but eager to engage in some playful discourse, I mentioned I considered myself intelligent but also quite intuitive and spiritual. The table fell silent until the senior consultant awkwardly acknowledged my comment and changed the subject.
That moment, though small, reinforced the idea that my success in the workplace was contingent upon my ability to acquiesce to the social norms. I honestly didn't feel like there was a way to thrive in a more masculine environment without entirely abandoning my femininity, so I tucked away my spiritual, bubbly side.
As the busy season ramped up in January, work became all-consuming. I started working 11-hour shifts and immediately felt myself barrelling into burnout.
I didn't feel safe confiding in anyone about my workload concerns because everyone around me seemed to wear their burnout as a badge of honor. I'd see my boss work long hours and hear colleagues laugh off the stress, saying, "That's just Deloitte."
I experienced a lot of cognitive dissonance because I wanted to be promoted to my boss's position but didn't want the lifestyle that followed it. I felt guilty for being dissatisfied when I'd been given such a fantastic opportunity at a reputable company.
My mental and physical health went out the window during the busy season. I dropped my hobbies, stopped socializing, and spent the chilly Chicago winter cooped up inside. By the time I'd get off work each night, I was too tired to do anything except scroll through TikTok in bed.
My back ached from being glued to my seat all day, and I relied on snacks to power through stressful assignments. I gained 20 pounds in just a few months and felt the most physically unhealthy I've ever been.
My workload lightened up in March, and by late spring, my coach gave me a performance review. She told me I didn't perform as well on my tasks during the busy months as during my first four months at Deloitte. I was taken aback because I hadn't received any concerns about my performance previously. I felt frustrated knowing I could've made changes sooner if given that feedback.
But I still felt scared to communicate that to my coach, so I put my head down and spent the summer focusing on building back stamina and improving my numbers.
In early September, I received a vague email from the department head requesting I join a video call. When I hopped on, he and an HR representative greeted me. I'd been hearing rumblings about recent layoffs throughout the company, so I knew at that moment what was coming next.
Wasting no time, the head of the department told me I was being laid off from Deloitte for financial reasons. He said it was a firm decision and passed me off to the HR rep, who walked me through departure protocol. They told me I had 24 hours to log out of my work computer and sign departure documents.
It was quick, almost lawyerly. I felt like I had no time to ask questions or push back. It's hard to even recall what happened; I went into a state of shock and felt like I could barely breathe or hear what they were saying.
When the call ended, my mind immediately went to the financial blow this would be. I didn't love my job, but my $90,000 salary was my means of survival. I had two weeks' severance and a bit of money in savings, but I had no other job prospects.
I cried myself to sleep that night and spent the next day frantically trying to log out of all the programs on my work computer.
My lease in Chicago ended in September, so I temporarily moved in with family in the South to save money and spend the holidays. I contacted one of Deloitte's hired career counselors to help refine my résumé and apply for jobs. The counselor helped direct me to more actuarial work, for which I'm very grateful.
The next two months consisted of applying to jobs and — more importantly — taking space to reflect on my experience at Deloitte. I realized if I wanted to bring my best self to my next job, I needed to fill my cup outside of work. Abandoning my hobbies and social life to pursue professional success hadn't worked. I desperately needed a work-life balance.
I also needed a change of scenery. I was tired of the grey-scale, corporate culture of Chicago and wanted to live in a place as unabashedly bold, feminine, and colorful as I am. So when I landed a remote job as an actuarial analyst for Transamerica, I took it as my opportunity to book a one-way ticket to Miami.
Now that I'm here, I'm moving my body again, dressing in colorful clothes, and exploring Miami's vibrant culture. I feel like I've finally come alive.
My actuarial work at Transamerica is similar to that of Deloitte, but the company culture couldn't be more different. My superiors encourage me to leave work at work and I finally have time to nourish my hobbies and relationships.
My team is collaborative and close-knit, and I feel like I have a stake in the company. I feel safe showing the team my authentic self and know they'll do the same in return. I've been in this new job for about eight months and feel closer to my entirely remote team at Transamerica than I ever did with the team I saw in person at Deloitte.
If I could go back and tell Cierra from a few years ago anything, it would be that you have options. I clung to my career at Deloitte for the safety of a paycheck, but in the process, I completely lost myself and felt more burnt out than ever.
I couldn't be happier that I was laid off from Deloitte. It forced me to realize I have the power to choose a lifestyle that fulfills me and forge a career that honors my authentic self.
Deloitte representatives did not respond to requests for comment.
If you worked in a Big Four firm and would like to share your story, email Tess Martinelli at tmartinelli@businessinsider.com
