I used to think hard work and loyalty were enough to get ahead. Turns out, in some offices, trust is the fastest way to get stabbed in the back.
I’m Jordan, 35 now. This happened from 2022 to early 2025 at Apex Innovations, a mid-sized tech firm in Boston specializing in SaaS solutions for healthcare. I started there in 2017 as a mid-level product manager — $95k salary, great team, clear path upward.
My coworker — and eventual betrayer — was Ryan.
Ryan joined a year after me. Same level, same age (early 30s), similar background: both from state schools, both ambitious. We bonded fast — grabbed lunch, vented about difficult stakeholders, collaborated on projects. He was charismatic, quick with ideas, always presenting well. I was more analytical, deep in data, strong with execution.
We became work friends. Beers after deadlines, fantasy football league, even double-dated once.
In 2022, our VP announced retirement. The Director role opened — $180k+, lead the whole product team, C-suite visibility.
Ryan and I were the obvious internal candidates.
We both applied.
Leadership encouraged “healthy competition” — separate interviews, vision presentations.
We promised each other: “May the best person win. No hard feelings.”
I poured my soul into it.
Months of prep: new product roadmap, user research, revenue projections. I’d led three successful launches — on time, over metrics. My 360 reviews: “Strategic thinker, team player, ready for next level.”
Ryan’s launches? Flashier pitches, but two missed deadlines, one over budget.
I felt confident.
The decision came in March 2023.
They chose Ryan.
Announcement email: “Thrilled to promote Ryan to Director of Product!”
I was gutted — but professional.
Congratulated him publicly, privately.
He hugged me: “Man, it was close. You’ll get the next one.”
I believed him.
Then the sabotage started.
Subtle at first.
Ryan became my boss.
Reassigned my strongest reports to his “special projects.”
Gave me the messiest accounts — legacy products with angry clients.
In meetings, he’d credit my ideas as “team efforts” — but present them as his.
I pushed back gently — “Actually, I drove that research.”
He’d smile: “We all contributed.”
By summer 2023, my performance “dipped.”
Missed metrics on troubled accounts.
Reviews: “Needs to adapt to new leadership.”
I was confused — I was working harder than ever.
Then I found the emails.
In September 2023, cleaning out my inbox, I saw forwarded chains from Ryan to the VP — before the promotion decision.
Subject: “Concerns about Jordan’s readiness”
He’d written: “Jordan’s great at execution but lacks strategic vision. Struggles with ambiguity. I’ve had to step in on several of his projects.”
Attached “examples” — cherry-picked, out-of-context Slack messages where I’d asked for input (normal collaboration).
One twisted my question about budget into “indecisiveness.”
He’d been undermining me for months — to clear his path.
I confronted him privately.
“Ryan… why?”
He didn’t deny.
“Just business, man. It was me or you. I have a family to feed.”
(He had no kids. I did.)
I went to HR.
Showed the emails.
They investigated.
Found more — Ryan deleting praise for me in team reports, reassigning my wins to others.
But the damage was done.
Leadership: “We stand by the promotion decision.”
Offered me “lateral move” to a smaller team — demotion in disguise.
Or severance if I left quietly.
I took severance — 6 months pay.
But the betrayal spread.
Ryan told the team I’d “struggled with the transition” and “chosen to pursue other opportunities.”
Industry in Boston is small.
Job interviews: “We heard there were performance issues at Apex.”
Offers rescinded.
I took a contract gig — half pay, no benefits.
Ryan? Promoted again in 2024 — VP now.
Posted LinkedIn updates: “Grateful for the trust leadership placed in me.”
I saw our old double-date friends like his posts.
No one reached out to me.
I moved to a new city in 2025 — fresh start.
New job, lower title, but honest team.
Therapy for the anger.
I mentored Ryan.
Shared ideas freely.
Helped him prepare for interviews.
And he used it to bury me.
The betrayal didn’t just cost me the promotion.
It cost me my reputation, my network, my confidence.
I learned trust in the workplace isn’t blind.
It’s earned — and verified.
I’ll never again assume a work friend won’t throw you under the bus for a title.
Because some people see competition as war.
And they’ll burn the village to be king.
Even if the village helped build their castle.
I lost the battle.
But I kept my integrity.
Some days, that feels like winning.
Most days, it feels like cold comfort.
For the career I lost to someone who didn’t deserve it.
TL;DR: Trusted coworker and I competed for a big promotion; he won by secretly undermining me to leadership with twisted emails and examples. When confronted, he justified it as “business.” The sabotage tanked my reputation, led to no real recourse from HR, and forced me out of the company and city. One workplace betrayal cost me my career trajectory.
