Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has federal employees scrambling—and sweating—after a bold move that’s got taxpayers talking. Last week, on February 22, 2025, a blunt email landed in the inboxes of over two million federal workers, demanding they list five concrete accomplishments from the previous week. Titled “What Did You Do Last Week?” and sent from the Office of Personnel Management (OPM), the directive came with a Musk-sized twist: fail to respond, and it’s resignation time. If feds can’t justify their jobs with a handful of tasks, should taxpayers keep footing the bill? DOGE’s latest stunt is shaking up Washington—and raising big questions about government accountability.
The Email That Rocked the Bureaucracy
Picture this: it’s Saturday morning, and federal workers—already jittery from DOGE’s cost-cutting crusade—open their email to find a no-nonsense demand. “List 5 bullets of what you accomplished last week and CC your manager,” the message read, explicitly barring attachments or classified details. Musk, the billionaire spearheading DOGE under President Donald Trump’s second term, took to X to up the ante: “Failure to respond will be taken as a resignation.” Posts on X erupted, with supporters cheering the “genius” accountability hack and critics decrying it as a “bullying tactic” from an unelected outsider.
The move mimics Musk’s playbook from his 2022 Twitter takeover, where he famously slashed staff after a similar “prove your worth” ultimatum. Now, as DOGE’s de facto enforcer, he’s applying that Silicon Valley ruthlessness to the federal workforce. By March 1, 2025, agencies like the Pentagon, FBI, and State Department had pushed back, instructing staff to “pause” responses pending internal review. But the damage was done—the spotlight’s on, and feds are feeling the heat.
Taxpayers vs. the Swamp: A Fair Question?
Musk’s gambit taps into a raw nerve: why should taxpayers fund jobs that can’t show results? The federal government employs over two million civilians, costing roughly $180 billion in salaries annually—about 3% of the $6.1 trillion 2024 budget. DOGE, launched via Trump’s January 20, 2025, executive order, aims to slash that bloat, targeting what Musk calls “waste, fraud, and abuse.” His X posts claim billions saved already—$1 billion from axed DEI contracts alone—though specifics remain murky.
If a worker can’t list five tasks, the argument goes, what are they doing with our money? Supporters see it as common sense: private-sector employees face performance reviews; why not feds? A mechanic fixes cars, a teacher grades papers—surely a bureaucrat can muster five bullet points. On X, users like @MarioNawfal hailed it as “Elon holding the swamp accountable,” while others pointed to horror stories of government waste—like $500 million on unused border wall parts. Taxpayers, already stretched by a $36 trillion national debt, deserve proof their dollars aren’t vanishing into a black hole.
The Pushback: Chaos or Overreach?
Not everyone’s buying it. Major agencies rebelled, with the Defense Department tweeting on February 23, 2025, that it—not DOGE—handles its own performance reviews. The American Federation of Government Employees, representing 750,000 workers, slammed Musk’s threat as “cruel and disrespectful,” especially to veterans in civil service. Union president Everett Kelley called it an “out-of-touch billionaire’s power trip,” vowing legal challenges to any forced resignations. By March 2, 2025, lawsuits were piling up, alleging DOGE lacks authority to fire anyone—a claim bolstered by a White House filing distancing Musk from formal leadership.
The chaos is palpable. Some feds, like a USDA specialist interviewed by ABC News, say the email’s vagueness—five tasks, no criteria—sets them up to fail. Others argue it’s unfair: a soldier doesn’t list “shot five bullets” weekly, yet their value’s clear. Democrats, including Senator Patty Murray, blasted Musk’s “unlawful” overreach, pointing to his $398 billion empire’s federal contracts (Tesla and SpaceX alone nabbed $18 billion over a decade) as a conflict of interest. If DOGE can’t define “worthy,” who decides what’s sweat-worthy?
A Reckoning for Efficiency
Musk’s DOGE isn’t slowing down. By late February, it had infiltrated 15 agencies, from Treasury to the Pentagon, sniffing out cuts. Its X account bragged of $250 million saved via 199 canceled contracts—though details are scarce. The email stunt, whether a PR flex or a serious cull, fits Musk’s vision: government as “America, Inc.,” needing a corporate turnaround. At CPAC on February 20, 2025, he waved a chainsaw gifted by Argentina’s Javier Milei, vowing to “rip out the bureaucracy’s roots.” Applause thundered, but so did resignations—21 DOGE staffers quit days later, protesting the “dismantling” of public services.
This isn’t just about five bullets—it’s a reckoning. If feds can’t prove their worth, DOGE argues, taxpayers shouldn’t pay. Yet the flip side looms: what happens when essential but quiet roles—like food safety inspectors or air traffic controllers—get axed in the name of “efficiency”? The swamp’s sweating, sure—but the cure might sting more than the disease.
Where’s This Headed?
As March 2025 unfolds, the email’s fallout brews. Will feds comply, rebel, or sue? Will DOGE’s chainsaw spare the vital while slicing the fat? Taxpayers are watching, wallets in hand. Musk’s experiment could force a leaner government—or spark a backlash that buries it. One thing’s certain: the days of coasting on the public dime are under fire. Who’s sweating now?
