September 2013 and I was being made redundant again. Sleep didn’t come easily. My brain wouldn’t shut up with what if’s, how’s and whys. After the news broke I went home trying to put a brave face on it and failing miserably. The dinner that was waiting for me when I got in went uneaten, I microwaved it then sat looking at it until it went cold.
25 September 2013
The morning sky looked suitably doom laden for my mood as I left the house. Crossing the Big Bridge I stood for a minute looking out over the water. The sun was trying hard to break through but the mist was winning. There didn’t seem any reason to hurry.
The mood in the office was much like the weather, everyone shrouded in a fog of worry, fear, uncertainty. Some people talked about fighting the decision, most of us knew it was futile, a waste of precious energy. Despite the wording of our letters, ‘at risk of redundancy’ is just the arse covering way of saying a decision was made long ago but, unless we pretend you have a chance, the lawyers will be on our backs.
Then Arabella turned up, dressed for a battle and bearing boxes of cakes to cheer us up. She gave me a little pep talk about not agreeing to anything. One by one people were called in for their meetings, laughingly called the first consultation. When my turn came there wasn’t much to not agree to as it turned out.
The New, New Coo and the HR Witch sat in front of me with a pretty little chart showing why the office had to close and the proposed new jobs in the Frozen North. To be honest I couldn’t see it properly and I didn’t much care. The plans they’ve hatched have no chance of working, they don’t actually understand what we do or the commitment it takes.
When I asked if there was a chance of negotiating, not to keep my job you understand, but to get some kind of package, it was a flat no. I’ve worked there less than two years, I get nothing, zilch. The office will close on 20 December, they can’t tell me when my leaving date will be until Arabella makes a decision on what they have offered her.
When I pointed out that they had my job title wrong on my letter, the HR Witch said, “so what do you think your job title is then?”
I could have slapped her for her sarcastic tone but instead I said, “Hotel and Entertainment Assistant.”
“Well your job description says Hotel and Entertainment Manager,” she wafted her form in front of my face.
“You’d best leave it like that then,” I said. “It’ll look much better on my CV.”
“That’s what it says, that’s what you are.”
They did offer me a job in the Frozen North but I laughed. Why would I want that? Then the HR Witch asked me how I felt. Really?
“How do you think?” I said. “Angry, upset, betrayed.”
I think I was rather more forthright than they expected and a lot less accommodating. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. In fact they were probably still reeling from Arabella who went in before me.
Arabella called me up to the mezzanine when I came out and asked me what had happened. She was wonderful. Told me she would never have got through the last year without me. Told me she had taken me on knowing nothing about the job, abandoned me after one week and that I’d done brilliantly, with no help, no supervision and that whoever employed me next was going to be very lucky. I cried, just a little.
“I hope I’m going to get a good reference then,” I said, smiling through the tears.
“You’re going to get a glowing reference.”
She has been offered a job in the a frozen North too, not her job, nothing like it. They’ve taken away everything they gave when they promoted her and more. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do. When she asked me what I wanted to do next and I said, “get a job, any job.”
“We need to get you a job then,” she said. She’s going to speak to all her contacts to do whatever she can for me. She’s also going to do all she can to keep me for as long as possible because right now, every day I stay is another day’s pay.
After that I went out to lunch. There was no actual lunch involved, not even a coffee because I really shouldn’t be spending money on frivolities. The sun had finally won the battle with the mist, it was blue sky, summery. Instead of the usual dash to the coffee shop and back I took the full hour. I’ve never taken the full hour since I started. Trying to will the sun to lift my mood I strolled down to the old walls at Friars Gate and sat for a while on a bench. The ancient walls reminded me that this is just a passing moment in history. Those walls have weathered centuries, wars, plagues, floods, the rise and fall of buildings around them. Reaching my hand out I pressed my palm against the rough stone feeling the warmth. It was a comfort.
Who knew an hour was such a long time? After a while I got up and walked a little further, down to God’s House Tower along to Canute’s Palace and to the little French garden there where I sat on another bench looking over at the garden. There was peace in nature. Comfort and peace, I needed both.
Back at the office, exactly an hour later, I looked up at the building pushing up into the blue sky. I felt calm for the first time today, resigned to my fate. Then I went inside and spent the rest of the afternoon working on my CV. Anything else seemed pointless.
We all left the office together, more or less, and walked down to Oxford Street where we sat outside the White Star with drinks, chewing it all over. Somehow I felt disconnected from it all. I’m letting it go.
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What a horrible time you had of it. (I know that bench – I’ve cried there too) so glad you let go, cause now you have another job and you are 2 1/2 years wiser. Brave of you to blog about it
I think blogging about it was my way of getting through it.