SEARCHING FOR THE RIPCORD
By Atlas Reed
Invisible Labor: Service, Sacrifice, and Survival in America’s Workforce
From Military Contractors to Everyday Workers—The Cost of a Broken Safety Net
In early September 2025 I sold my car near a U.S. base in western
Germany. On its own, that’s an ordinary task. But for me, it marked
the final logistical hurdle in a high-stakes exit process triggered by
something far more disruptive: I was laid off in July, after more than
five years supporting U.S. military operations in Europe.
I worked at separate U.S. military command centers in Europe over the
past five years. In both roles, I supported critical military
operations—quietly, consistently, and professionally. And yet, when my
contract ended, I was given 60 days to uproot my life, or lose
employer-paid repatriation. I had 90 days to legally remain in
Germany.
There was no formal off-ramp. No transition plan. No safety net. Just
a deadline and the growing realization that I was now navigating
international bureaucracy completely alone, like many who work
overseas without family support
Every logistical step—canceling phone service, forwarding mail,
closing bank accounts—had to be precisely timed to avoid penalties,
delays, or legal gaps. I kept my car until the last possible week,
because it was my only means of completing the dozens of in-person
tasks required to legally and logistically exit the country.
And amid all this, I was forced to start applying for jobs
immediately. In the U.S., unemployment benefits require you to submit
job applications every week—regardless of whether you’re physically,
emotionally, or logistically in a position to do so. Apply, or lose
your income. There's no room to be thoughtful or strategic. You're
expected to search frantically while dismantling your life.
Worse, my CAC (Common Access Card) expired the moment I was laid off.
Without it, I could no longer access the base—even though I still had
paperwork to complete, including the vehicle de-registration and
customs processing required to finalize the car sale. No CAC, no
access. No access, no legal closure.
I was stuck in a Catch-22: I needed a CAC to finish my exit. I needed
a job to get a CAC. I had neither.
A single piece of plastic—a badge—determined whether I was treated
like a professional or a liability. It was as if years of service
evaporated the moment the barcode stopped scanning.
Sure, I could ask someone to help me. But that misses the point. After
two decades supporting military operations as both a direct-hire
federal civilian and a contractor, I shouldn’t have to depend on
personal favors just to leave a country legally. I’ve deployed. I’ve
supported warfighters from command centers and from austere
environments. I’ve never worn the uniform, but I’ve stood beside those
who have. Yet the moment I became “non-essential,” I was invisible.
Most people don’t talk about this. They’re afraid to seem bitter or
burn bridges. So we keep quiet, patch together our next contract, and
pretend this level of instability is normal.
It’s not just the paperwork or deadlines that wear you down. It’s the
loss of dignity. In the U.S., job loss often means health loss. Unless
you can afford COBRA—which can easily cost $600 to $900 per
month—you’re simply uninsured. For comparison, in Germany, healthcare
is not tied to employment. Losing your job doesn’t mean losing access
to care.
A friend of mine—employed in the German economy—was laid off around
the same time. He received unemployment benefits equal to 60% of his
prior salary, plus full medical coverage, and the space to
recalibrate. It wasn’t luxurious. But it wasn’t punishing. The system
is designed to prevent collapse.
The American system, by contrast, stacks instability on top of
instability: no paycheck, no health insurance, minimal support—and all
of it conditional. You’re expected to bounce back immediately or be
labeled lazy. It’s not just inefficient. It’s inhumane.
But that cruelty isn’t accidental. It serves a purpose. When
healthcare, housing, and basic survival are tied to employment, people
are less likely to push back or walk away from toxic jobs. The system
creates dependency—not resilience. It keeps people hustling,
compliant, exhausted.
And this disparity extends deep into the federal workforce. Government
civilians get paid leave, sick time, fitness hours, and job
protections. Contractors get none of it. I’ve seen coworkers show up
sick—during a global pandemic—because missing work meant missing pay.
There are two truly privileged classes in the United States: the
wealthy and military professionals. Everyone else is largely left to
fend for themselves—whether thriving or suffering, the government
seems indifferent.
Meanwhile, some military retirees—rightfully entitled to full
disability benefits—can still work overseas in six-figure contracting
jobs. Between disability pay, tax-free income, housing allowances, and
job salaries, their income can easily exceed $200,000 annually.
Meanwhile, disabled civilians must choose between earning a living and
keeping their benefits, thanks to punitive income caps under Social
Security. The message is clear: certain forms of service are honored.
Others are forgotten.
I’ve spent years as a volunteer firefighter and EMT, and every
September 11, I hear the same refrain: “thank you for your service.”
And while I appreciate the sentiment, I’ve come to see how narrowly we
define the word “service.” It's often reserved for those in uniform or
those in visible crisis roles, but rarely extended to the people who
provide essential services that keep society functioning—like
sanitation workers, home health aides, teachers, grocery clerks, and
line cooks. During 9/11, firefighters and first responders were
rightfully elevated as symbols of courage—but many others served
quietly, without glory, and continue to do so every day. If we truly
want to honor service, we must expand our gratitude beyond the
symbolic and into the everyday. Because the humblest of all jobs
deserves respect.
Like many highly credentialed professionals, I’ve spent decades
building expertise, serving in critical roles overseas. I’ve been
financially responsible. And even I barely managed this transition.
That should terrify people. Because if someone like me—educated,
employed, child-free, financially literate—can be dropped into
bureaucratic chaos with no safety net, what happens to people with
fewer resources? What happens to families?
There’s no off-ramp. No transitional guidance. No acknowledgment. One
day, you’re part of the mission. The next, you’re erased. The emails
stop. The CAC fails. The people you worked with for years move on like
you never existed. It’s not just a logistical failure—it’s a
psychological one.
And this isn’t new. During the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, I watched
contractors die in service without being counted in official numbers.
No medals. No honors. No public mourning. Just... disappearance.
Contractors coordinate operations, run logistics, analyze
intelligence. We’re essential. But we’re treated as expendable.
When I say “the system,” I mean the tangled web of federal
contracting, employment law, health insurance policy, and clearance
access. It’s a system built for continuity of operations, not
continuity of care. And once you’re no longer operationally useful,
you’re on your own.
What Needs to Change
To prevent others from falling through these same cracks, we need
meaningful structural reforms. These are not radical ideas—they’re
basic protections for those who serve:
1. Transitional Access for Out-Processing
Provide a minimum 60-day grace period post-employment for former
contractors to retain CAC access strictly for out-processing and legal
requirements. This ensures people can leave legally and with dignity.
2. Healthcare Decoupled from Employment
Implement a national healthcare policy that guarantees baseline
medical coverage regardless of employment status—modeled after systems
in Germany, the Netherlands, or the ACA's public option vision.
3. Fair and Portable Unemployment Benefits
Reform unemployment requirements to allow for intentional job searches
during major life transitions. Include temporary waivers for weekly
application quotas during verified international moves or layoffs from
overseas posts.
4. Contractor Transition Support
Create formal off-ramps for U.S. government contractors: exit
briefings, relocation assistance, transitional pay coverage, and
access to repatriation funds through federal contractor support
offices.
5. Parity in Disability Protections
Reform Social Security Disability rules to allow Americans with
disabilities the same opportunity to earn a living as their military
counterparts—without punitive income caps or benefit cuts.
Some will say, “You made your choice.” But that’s a convenient
oversimplification. Hardworking people—regardless of employment
type—deserve dignity, stability, and support when they fall.
Government’s role isn’t just defending borders. It’s protecting people
from insecurity: food insecurity, housing insecurity, healthcare
insecurity. That is national security.
The cost of being poor in America is a kind of tax: you pay more in
overdraft fees, in higher interest, in worse outcomes. And once you
fall behind, it’s nearly impossible to catch up.
I eventually finalized the car sale. But it took creativity,
persistence, and luck.
And that’s the problem.
You shouldn’t need luck to leave a country legally after serving it.
This experience reminded me how fragile our systems are—but also how
resilient people can be. I’ve weathered deployments, relocations, and
transitions before. I’ll get through this one, too.
But I’m telling this story not just for me.
I’m telling it for everyone who comes next.