For 20 years at Intel, I was the one they sent.

Secret AMD collaboration in Canada? Send Joe.
First Samsung Foundry engagement in South Korea? Send Joe.
Ayar Labs photonics integration—silicon photonics years ahead of the market? Send Joe.
Asia manufacturing transitions in China and Vietnam? Send Joe.

My network knew: When the problem was complex, cross-functional, and had no clear playbook—send Joe.

Then over the past 18 months, something changed.

Four VP changes. Heavy retirements. Separations. People moving to other opportunities.

My network fragmented. Nearly everyone I grew up through Intel with was no longer wearing that badge. I had kept my head down with new exciting pathfinding and R&D projects, not realizing how severe the network fragmentation and migration was until my number was called this July.

And suddenly, being indispensable became dispensable.

When the layoff came, I had a choice: See this as personal rejection or recognize what was actually transferable and treat this as an unexpected nudge to a new chapter.

This is about what actually transferred—and what I wish I’d known sooner. It was a great catalyst to revisit every award, every lateral move, and each segment in this multi-decade journey, reflecting on what I learned, who I achieved with, and what it means as I look to the future.

What Dissolved vs. What Transferred

When your internal network fragments, you discover what was borrowed versus what was yours.

What dissolved:

•           The people who knew to deploy me (they left)

•           The visibility of my capability (new leadership couldn’t see it)

•           Past project history, invisible to new leadership

What transferred:

•           The breadth I’d built (design, packaging, test, photonics, 2D/2.5D/3D)

•           The relationships (dispersed, but real)

•           The pattern recognition from navigating complexity without maps

The investments in people, processes, and robust enough systems that scaled without burden—those will matter wherever I go next.

The difference mattered.

One required the organization. The others were mine to keep.

Intel gave me the space and opportunity to build breadth most engineers never get. That mattered. What I didn’t do was make that breadth visible outside the building. That’s on me.  

I have briefly discussed this previously, but as I pondered those 3 remaining weeks in July, my network began to build. It was great to reconnect with past leaders, peers, and partners across numerous projects. It was exciting to have a countdown timer to have one last chat with the few remaining engineers. Sending out my farewell note helped others have the courage to say farewell—not drift away in secret. I greatly enjoyed a sendoff happy hour, a chance to embrace and celebrate with great engineers, internal and external, knowing that this industry is still very small. Many careers run through Intel, and we have learned from each other and can root for each other moving forward no matter who signs our paychecks.

Building Clarity from Chaos

I had advantages: a severance package, tech skills during an AI boom, and financial runway to not rush.

But those advantages don’t make the past three to four months easy. They just made them viable.

There were roles that stalled: 3-4 rounds for a local contract position—intriguing work, good fit on paper—then silence before technical interviews even started.

There were roles I couldn’t force myself into: The industry seems short on EDA and Physical Layout engineers. That’s not me. Not my goals. I could have tried to fit that shape. I didn’t. Roles in Texas, New York, places I have never lived, and had to evaluate potential to commute or fully relocate.

There was the learning I hadn’t prioritized in 20 years: I reignited a learning cycle. MindStudio’s 30-Day Bootcamp became hundreds of hours—building agents, crashing, and getting back up with a community surfing the same AI tsunami.

I explored tools like Notion. Studied leadership, psychology, engineering stacks, and workforce dynamics. Bit by bit, I saw how they connected.

And I had constraints: Two kids in grade school. Geographic limits. A family we weren’t willing to uproot lightly.

The constraints forced clarity.

I applied to less than one job per week. Each application was a clarity-building exercise:

•           Learned their language

•           Understood what they valued

•           Calibrated where my breadth actually solved problems they couldn’t solve otherwise

Not “any role that pays well.” Not something I was overqualified for and would be a poor fit for both sides long-term.

But: Where does this pattern recognition from navigating complexity become the solution, not a nice-to-have?

Nearly four months later I have a dozen newsletters and a lot to reflect on and look back over.

Not because it was easy. Not because I got desperate.

Because I got clear—and the right intersection appeared.

The Landing

After all this, I landed. My next chapter starts Monday, and I'm excited for everything it will bring.

A role where the breadth mattered. Where the constraints—family in Phoenix, strategic deployment needs—became the solution rather than the compromise.

Now comes the real work: proving that breadth matters in practice, not just on paper. Earning trust. Solving real problems while expanding to a new domain. Building something that scales.

But landing isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning of a different optimization problem.

How do I maintain what I’ve built here—the newsletter, the tools, the community, the learning—while fully engaging in new work?

How do I avoid the pattern I fell into at Intel: pouring everything into one optimization axis and leaving others at zero?

That’s what this next section is about: What actually transfers when circumstances change. And what habits prevent the stagnation I’m trying to avoid.

What Actually Transfers

When networks fragment and circumstances shift, here's what I'm learning actually transfers:

1. Relationships over titles—but relationships require intentional maintenance

The ex-Intel colleagues at Semicon West—we sat in nearly an entire row, cheering each other on. Different companies now. Different roles. But the relationships are real and portable.

But here's what I missed for years: Not asking for help. Not making myself available through LinkedIn. Hiding from my network until I needed a job.

The world shifted to remote work. Everyone became busy, always online, yet disconnected. Always reachable, yet never connecting at human scale.

The AI Mastermind last week. The MindStudio bootcamp. Coffee chats. Lunch meetings. Phone calls with colleagues around the industry. Semicon West.

These reminded me: There's far more to 20 years of history than someone to pass my resume to or ask for help.

Interesting articles. Voices that excite and inspire me—that I'm just now finding. Amazing successes are happening across this refound network. Small wins. Learnings that could spark something for someone else.

I don't want to forget this. Or move on from it.

Finding balance in these axes—work, community, learning, family—is a priority I need to cherish without losing sight of new growth vectors.

2. Breadth you build, not breadth you claim

Recruiters said: "You're the only one who came up. We're in disbelief at the package you bring."

Not because I had a great resume. Because 20 years of navigating complexity without maps built pattern recognition that can't be crammed.

3. Clarity over activity

Less than one application per week forced me to get clear: Where does my breadth solve problems they can't solve otherwise?

Activity is applying everywhere. Clarity is knowing where you actually fit.

That principle applies to everything: jobs, tools, newsletter topics, how I spend time.

What I'm Taking Forward

So here’s what I’m taking forward:

The network that fragmented taught me what actually transfers.

Not titles. Not organizational visibility.

But relationships I maintain intentionally. Breadth I’ve built over decades. External visibility I’m finally creating. Clarity over endless activity.

And here’s what I’m committing to:

The new role starts soon. The flow will shift.

But not to zero for external visibility—LinkedIn, networking, and learning in public. Not for this community. Not for the learning we’re doing together. Because in this chaotic, AI-reshaping-everything moment, we need campfires. Places where people can share stories, compare notes, figure out what’s actually working. I’ve found that hugely rewarding—not for brand-building, but for sense-making and wayfinding collectively.

Not for the growth I’ve reignited.

Because I made that mistake once—pouring everything into one axis and leaving others at zero.

I won’t do that again.

This newsletter continues. The tools stay live. The community keeps building.

Not because I have it figured out. Because we’re all navigating this together.

If you’re facing your own network fragmentation—layoff, transition, uncertainty:

What you’ve built is yours to keep. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.

The relationships matter. The breadth matters. The clarity you’re building through the hard parts? That matters most.

You’re not behind. You’re exactly where you need to be.

Keep building. Keep connecting. Keep learning.

The marathon is just getting started.

—Joseph

P.S. You might be wondering, 'What about that PACT/PADE deep dive?' It is absolutely still coming. This story—the landing and the 'why' behind it—just felt more important to share with you all today. Now that I've landed, my next focus is on sharing the how. Expect that breakdown soon. I plan to leverage PACT/PADE and practice Clarity Architecture as I onboard, prove myself, and work to add value and support my new team. The frameworks are great—but execution is everything.