Some time ago, I posted a blog which mentioned in passing that I had been made redundant. You can read it here.
In that post I mentioned that I had mixed feelings about it even then some 7 months after the event, and that I would put something together and post it. Well, this is that post almost a year later.
In my working life I have had 8 employers to date. Not counting Saturday jobs and my Avon round in my early married life.
I have previously always decided when I moved on from an employer. I may have had my mind made up by a better or more interesting offer. Or by my principles when I have fundamentally disagreed with a particular work practice (twice!). I have never been motivated to move on by a higher salary, and I think in most cases I have moved on to either the same or less. Go figure. No wonder I am not wealthy.
Last August I was made redundant. Not just me, a whole company of wonderful people, support workers, maintenance men, admin people.
Because I knew the writing was on the wall so to speak, I had been looking for other work. I found another job, part time, local rather than a 45 minute drive each way daily. Fewer hours, lower pay, but work nevertheless.
I have been there eleven months now – my, how time flies. I have been trying to sort my feelings out.
I miss my old place of work. I miss my colleagues. I try to keep in touch, but because of how it happened, there wasn’t a lot of time to get contact details, and I hold my hand up here, I have never been the most reliable person when it comes to maintaining contact. Just ask my family.
When I left, I felt sad, I felt let down by the bosses, I felt angry for me and for other people. Part of me didn’t want to work again. I knew I had to. If only for my mental health. I couldn’t stay at home all winter. Good decision given the weather we had! I would have crumbled into depression I am sure. I have flirted around the edges of it this winter. I have had to work hard to pull back. So far I have managed it. This summer has topped up my seratonin levels nicely! Even if it is too darn hot.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of being discarded, thrown away, tossed on the rubbish heap. The anger, the sadness, the abandonment, the lack of my drive through the Forest to work, the extra time at home in the morning.
Some days I feel OK about it all, other days I still feel guilty for having work when I know others from the same place don’t. Most days I still feel resentful towards the bosses and the powers that be who enabled this situation to occur. Who didn’t use the policies and procedures in place to protect us all. I want to make sure that people who have policies and procedures in their place of employment actively follow them, and also, if they are broken, do something about it. I blew a whistle, well helped it to be blown, the information was passed to others higher up the chain of command who acted on it without delay (in this case the policies and procedures worked) and as such I feel I was partly responsible for the situation we all found ourselves in. Would I do it again? Yes, I would, without hesitation. It wasn’t nice while it was going on. But it was necessary.
So into a brand new job, admin, my comfort zone, a role I know I can do. A new type of business, one I didn’t know existed before. Getting used to new work practises, new colleagues, a new boss. The feeling of utter hopelessness when I couldn’t remember what I had been told the week before. The tears of frustration. The feeling of dread before pulling myself together and going through the door. Tears on my way in to work, and on the way home again.
I have to say at this point that my new colleagues have been wonderful. They have welcomed me with open arms, tried really hard to explain the work practices, the way the new boss works (!) and being very patient when I make silly mistakes (still making them six months in – not so good, but when you only work 3 days a week, it takes a while! trusted to do a lot more eleven months in so that is better!).
Will I stay there? I suppose so. I am settling in, dealing with stuff by myself and making some good shouts. My average length of time with an employer is 5 years. Unless my husband retires early, I could be there for another 10 years. Don’t know I will manage that, but I might understand what it is I am supposed to be doing by then, and who knows, I may even be enjoying myself.
Have you been made redundant? did you have the same sort of feelings?
I have tried really hard not to identify either my past nor my current employers. Please do not make assumptions or guesses as to their identities. I will not do so.