Benji Got RIFFed

Mental Health Month Has Gone to the Dogs in the Federal Workplace

This week, the Pentagon’s emotional support dog was RIFFed.

Yes, the much-loved Norfolk Terrier Benji was let go after a DOGE review. His offenses? Excessive tail-wagging (at work, no less), unauthorized nap breaks, and failure to report the five things he chewed last week. Despite boosting morale during a time of uncertainty, Benji was deemed “non-essential.”

OK, I made that up. (And yes, Benji is a pseudonym for a very real emotional support dog.)

But tell me it doesn’t sound believable. In just a few months, the federal workplace has become so accustomed to treating the ‘human’ parts of work as expendable that this barely registers as satire.

And honestly? I feel it, too. I’ve always thought of myself as resilient. Meditation, exercise, close friends, family — and of course, my dog, Walnut — have kept me grounded. But lately, I’m exhausted. It’s not just the absence of care. It’s the erosion of a culture that once, at least, tried to show it.

What We’re Losing — Quietly

The programs went first. DEIA staff. Affinity groups. Coaching. Professional development. At my agency, a long-running mindfulness program I helped lead was quietly shelved. And it’s not just us — this story is playing out across federal agencies as dozens of my colleagues working on wellness have been put on admin lead or fired.

But it’s not just about programs. As people grow more burned out, anxious, and numb, we’re losing basic expressions of care and support.

Farewell parties have vanished. Welcome rituals are gone. Return-to-office is treated like a check box, not a connection opportunity. People sit side by side on calls — but don’t talk to each other. Micromanagement to numerical targets is back. Empowerment and agency? Quietly phased out.

A colleague recently told me she hasn’t had time to grab a coffee with someone in over a year — and expects her team to do the same. That didn’t impress me. It broke my heart.

Mental Health Month, in Name Only

It’s May — Mental Health Awareness Month — but you’d never know it in the Federal Government.

Last year, my agency held a half-day wellness event, with senior leaders publicly sharing why self-care matters. Was it perfect, no? Was it a gesture of care, yes?

This year we received a bland HR email with a few generic webinar links and a note that “resources are available if you’re struggling.” No acknowledgment of burnout. No gesture toward the dislocation of the past year. Not even the pretense of care.

The False Choice We’re Making

In this era of “efficiency,” we’ve been sold a lie: That care is a luxury. That grabbing coffee with a colleague is a distraction. That we can cut culture and still keep performance. But that’s not how it works.

As I wrote in Uncertainty Requires Connection, connection is what helps people do hard things well. And in Severance and Our Own Workplace Dystopias, I warned what happens when management leans on control and abandons compassion.

We’re living that now. And it’s not efficient — it’s exhausting.

Let’s Not Get This Backwards

Benji’s not real. But the mindset that makes his story believable is.

Most support doesn’t come with floppy ears. It comes from daily choices to build workplaces that don’t just extract effort, but restore energy. It means acknowledging the toll this work takes, especially rapid change. Softening rigid policies to show care. And recognizing that our need to connect, to care for ourselves and each other, isn’t a distraction — it’s essential to getting the mission done.

If we keep cutting empathy and wellbeing in the name of efficiency, we’re not trimming fat. We’re cutting muscle. The very muscle that makes us resilient, connected, and human.

And we’re not fooling anyone. Not even the dog.