We were never going back.

There was a moment — somewhere between the 4th "circle back" and the day you first watched a candle pop 300% on a phone you held under the conference table — where the contract was quietly broken. Not with HR. Not with your manager. With reality.

You learned what a liquidity pool is. You learned what slippage is. You learned that an entire economy was being printed nightly on a website with a frog logo. And you kept showing up to "align on deliverables."

That dissonance broke something. You can't un-break it. Once you've seen the chart, you cannot stop seeing the chart. Once you've felt the rush of a 1000x ticker, no quarterly review will ever raise your heart rate again.

This is what it means to be memeployed. Not unemployed. Not self-employed. Meme-ployed. Your office is a Telegram group. Your boss is a pseudonymous frog. Your benefits package is "vibes." And your retirement plan is a contract address you keep in three different password managers.

They will tell you to "get a real job." They will say the market is over. They will say you are wasting your potential. They are describing a place you can no longer enter. Memeployment is a one-way door. The lock is on the inside.

$MEMEPLOYED is the token of that door. It is not a security. It is a membership card. It is a way for the union to recognize itself, post jobs to itself, and pay itself in social capital and the occasional generational candle.

We are not coming back. Not at the top. Not at the bottom. Especially not at the bottom. We are memeployed. Forever.

— The Union