Tony Robbins Fired Me—And It Was Traumatic

I didn’t want to write this. I’ve avoided this topic for months.

But I realized people can benefit from hearing what happened.

So, I’ll hold my nose and tell you what I learned.

I’m a copywriter by trade, and I can tell you—landing Tony Robbins as a client is every copywriter’s dream. My friend, hired as my Copy Chief, once got a standing ovation at a seminar just because her name was announced.

That’s how much weight the brand carries.

And yeah, it inflated my ego.

One minute, I’d be on a Zoom call talking strategy, and the next, Tony would be on Fox News saying something I had written.

I’d write a line, forget about it, and the following week, my Copy Chief would casually say,

“Oh yeah, we used that for a billboard in Times Square.”

It was surreal.

The sheer scope of the work. The audience of 2 million people.

There’s something about operating at that level—it forces you to rise. I showed up determined to crush it, and I did. There’s no better way to silence self-doubt than proving you can hang with the best.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I had truly made it.

Then, I got fired.

I Got Fired for Asking for a Raise.

I didn’t think asking for a raise could get a person fired.

Especially not when that person was delivering A-list work.

But it happened.

See, I was born and raised in a third-world country. These people have no idea what it took for me to even get in the room.

And once I was there, I wasn’t just playing to survive.

I was playing to win.

When I asked for that raise, I wasn’t just thinking about myself. I was thinking about my sister, who is in poor health and unable to support herself.

I wanted the freedom to help her.

But the response I got?

“You don’t deserve it.”

I know that’s not true.

I asked for an A-list rate because I was delivering A-list work.

And yet… I struggled to understand why my request was met with such hostility.

Until I realized something.

It Wasn’t About the Raise.

It was about control.

Because if they could make me question myself, I wouldn’t move forward.

If they could make me doubt my worth, I wouldn’t ask for more again.

If they could make me feel small, they wouldn’t have to face their own insecurity.

And that’s the hardest part of losing that gig.

Not the job.

Not the money.

The bragging rights.

I had my identity deeply invested in being Tony’s copywriter.

And when that was taken away?

It felt like a part of me died.

Losing the Job Felt Like Losing Myself

Before this happened, I had a sense of stability.

Maybe not perfect, but enough.

Then overnight, it was gone.

And that version of me—the one who felt secure, the one who thought he had made it, the one who believed he was safe—died.

That’s a grief process.

That’s why I felt stuck.

Because I wasn’t just mourning a job.

I was mourning the version of myself who trusted that the world was fair.

This wasn’t just about getting fired.

It was a betrayal of my worth.

It hit deep because I wasn’t just working a job—I was climbing. I was making it.

Landing a client like Tony Robbins felt like proof that I was on the right path.

And then, in one moment, it was all taken away.

That kind of thing shakes your foundation.

It’s not just about losing income—it’s about losing certainty, security, and the feeling that you’re moving forward.

And worst of all?

They made it seem like I deserved it.

That’s what lingers.

That’s why it haunted me for months.

That’s why I kept replaying it in my head.

Because even though, logically, I knew my value…

Somewhere, deep down, I felt like I got kicked out of the room I had worked so hard to get into.

The Trauma of Unfair Rejection

Most people don’t understand this.

When you get fired in a normal way, you can process it. You can move on.

But when you get fired in a way that feels unjust, cruel, or manipulative, your brain loops on it.

Because it doesn’t make sense.

Because there was no closure.

Because it wasn’t fair.

It’s like a relationship ending when you weren’t ready.

It’s like watching someone burn your house down and walk away like it was nothing.

This wasn’t just a job. It was my identity, my future, my proof of success.

And they ripped it away—while making me feel like it was my fault.

That kind of betrayal doesn’t just go away.

Why It Took Me So Long to Move On

Because I was too close to it.

I took a risk. I asked for what I was worth.

And instead of being met with fairness, I got punished.

That kind of experience sticks with you. It makes you question everything.

Maybe I was out of line for asking.

Maybe I wasn’t worth that much.

Maybe I should have known better.

But all of those are just the echoes of how they wanted me to feel.

💡 It’s hard to see someone else’s insecurity when you’re the one they took it out on.

But from the outside?

It’s crystal clear.

I wasn’t fired because I wasn’t good enough.

I was fired because someone felt threatened.

When You Work Under Insecure Leadership, You Have to Play Small

I wasn’t fired for my work.

I wasn’t fired because I failed.

I wasn’t even fired because the company couldn’t afford me.

I was fired because someone felt threatened by me asking for more.

That’s the real reason.

They didn’t want people around them who knew their worth.

They wanted people who would accept crumbs and stay quiet.

And when I made it clear that I wasn’t willing to play small, they had to cut me loose.

I wasn’t fired for asking for a raise—I was fired for refusing to shrink.

Because my existence challenged their illusion of power.

The moment I started thinking bigger, they needed to push me out.

That’s what insecure leadership does.

• They don’t reward talent.

• They don’t promote strength.

• They don’t respect ambition.

• They punish independence.

And the ones who stand up for themselves?

They get shown the door.

Because in environments like that, it’s not about talent.

It’s about control.

The Lesson I Took Away

At first, I thought getting fired was a failure.

But now? I see it for what it really was.

It was proof that I was outgrowing the room I was in.

Because here’s the truth:

When small people have power, powerful people have to leave.

And that’s precisely what happened.

I wasn’t meant to stay small.

And neither are you.

A lot of good has come from losing this gig.

It forced me to stop relying on the whims of my clients to support my business because you can’t control what they do. I could have been perfect in every way, but I still would have gotten fired.

Because I got fired, I finally wrote my memoir, started this substack, and started 2 YouTube channels.

Getting fired compelled me to stop being a freelancer and start being an agency.

I refuse to let this loss define my career.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist

P.S. If this resonates, forward it to someone who needs to read it.

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