Oregon Layoffs - Largest in History

Just when you thought your summer commute couldn’t get any more exciting, the Oregon Department of Transportation announced that nearly 500 state workers—about 10% of the entire ODOT crew—are getting pink slips effective July 31. Yes, 483 souls, give or take a few, are now officially out of a job. And if lawmakers don’t scramble, a second wave could hit early next year.

This mess didn’t unfold in a vacuum. The 2025 Legislature adjourned on June 27 without passing any of the transportation funding packages—be it the full monty or a pared-down version with a 3¢ gas tax bump. So here we are, thanks to “oops, no new taxes,” and ODOT is now slicing jobs, closing maintenance outposts, and postponing highway TLC.

Governor Kotek didn’t mince words: “This is not business as usual… will hurt every part of Oregon.” Her tone is less yoga-retreat, more town-crier‑with-a-megaphone  . And she’s dangling the possibility of a special session—if legislators can actually all get in the same (under-renovation) building after August 10.

But let’s talk casualties: potholes await repair, pavement striping will be delayed, snow removal in winter looks shadier than my past dating choices, and roadside cleanups? Yeah, those go on indefinite pause. North‑of‑80 drivers, rural commuters, and all of us who like not flipping our cars into a crater—all left wondering when we’ll start seeing layers of dust-coated chaos instead of smooth asphalt.

Inside ODOT, leadership’s counting cuts: not just the 483 active jobs, but another 449 vacant positions vaporized—total headcount shrinks by 932. In all‑staff email, Director Kris Strickler called this the hardest message of his career, expressing a mix of shock, fear, and frustration.

So, what’s next? A scramble. Municipal road departments are already sweating. Governor’s office is calling stakeholders to figure out how to keep something on the roads. Lawmakers are possibly heading back to Salem if they can corral themselves into a special session.

It’s Oregon’s version of “Oops, you broke it—now fix it.” Except roads cost more to repair than a broken crockpot, and unlike a crockpot, we can’t just throw away the mess and get a new one. We’re inheriting giant craters and a clueless Legislature who forgot they’re supposed to fix stuff before summer ends. Good luck, folks. And maybe invest in a pothole‑detecting Volvo.