“Changes aren’t permanent, but change is…” (Tom Sawyer – Rush)
I can rarely resist the temptation to quote Rush lyrics, but in this case, I think I have a
very good excuse. In the almost exactly 23 years since I started working in
financial services, the only constant has been change. In those same 23 years, I
have been made redundant three times. It’s about to be four.
The first time, it
was definitely a lot harder. That said, each time has come with its own nuances…
That first time, I was leaving a job that I enjoyed and a company that I had
liked working for. I missed it tremendously, but I was moving to a contracting
role, so at least for a while I was earning a lot more than I ever had – but
that proved not to be enough.
Apart from a sizeable dose of imposter syndrome
(“I can’t really be worth what they’re paying me…”), I lacked that sense of
belonging, which, it turns out, is something that I really need. I went
permanent with that company when the contract finished, and I discovered
something else that I “need” from a job – the company has to feel right. To this
day, I am not really sure what that really means, but I “know”. That feeling of
unease combined with the breakdown of my first marriage to leave me in a pretty
dark place.
Somehow one sliver of light got into my dark skull – I went and got
professional help. And it did help – it gave me sufficient clarity to realise
that I needed stuff to change. So change I did.
I left that job of my own
volition, and made several changes to my life over the next year or so – moving
to a General Insurer in their new Edinburgh office, I moved in with my new
partner, and having done so, moved into a more stable mind space. Also, I found
out that I was going to be a father.
Fast forward to late the following year – I
am now father to Christopher, who was born with some fairly serious medical
issues requiring multiple surgeries, but reasonably happy in my new role(s). We
are all called in to a meeting – the Edinburgh office isn’t working as well as
hoped and our parent company wants to move our roles to London – potentially us
too. Worst timing ever for me (not to mention that I have been in London often
enough to have no desire to live there!).
So there I was again – though this
time it almost came as a blessing since it allowed me to spend Christopher’s
first Xmas in Glasgow’s Yorkhill Children’s Hospital with him (and my wife, of
course). And another role was lined up for mid-January.
This time, the timing
seemed right, but the role just wasn’t – it was supposed to be “temp to
permanent” but ended up being “temp to nada” because of re-structuring.
Another
Xmas, another job hunt. It seemed like it was becoming an annual event…
This
brings me to Standard Life – ironically, initially working for my old boss from
the first redundancy again. And Standard Life felt like coming home in a lot of
other ways – a few familiar faces from the previous roles, and the “vibe” of the
company just felt right for me, and indeed, for most of the past 11 and a half
years I have found myself in just the right role for me – where I am doing what
I enjoy and able (I think) to give good value for money to the company…
This
though, is also coming to an end, and in a lot of ways, perhaps this time is the
hardest. I have been in this job longer than any other, I have made some really
good friends, and even grumpy old me has had fun!
The relatively drawn out
period between announcement and “the end” has probably given me a fair (too
long?) period for reflection. I am leaving in September – a lot of the dear
friends that I have met here are already gone – and with lockdown, there has
been no real closure there.
Then there are the panics… Am I getting too old to
easily get a new job? Do I have the right skillset for the new digital world? Is
this somehow my fault? What if I fall ill before I get a new job? (This is a new
one, thanks for that, “50+ increasing sense of your own mortality”!)
So many
things.
Along with these comes a feeling of abandonment and loss. A sense of
“unfinished business” coming from the things that I know will not be completed
by the time I leave, however hard I try. Then there’s feeling guilty that this
is bothering me when some of my colleagues have known no employer other than
Standard Life. I can only begin to imagine how they are feeling.
Now rational,
cynical me knows that this is the grown up world, and whatever a company may
say, the profit margin is always going to come before the feelings of employees.
But that me isn’t always (often?) in the driving seat – that role is usually
occupied by “bleeding heart poet, in a fragile capsule” me, who doesn’t always
cope that well with loss and endings.
Somewhere inside me the thoughts are
growing though – each time has been a progression in my work life, and in myself
– new friends and experiences, new horizons. There is something good out there.
The hurt will be metabolised into hard won experience.
Also, there is the
“professional pride” – I will work to leave things in the best place possible
for the good and honest human beings that will carry on once I have left.
If you
should find yourself going down the road to redundancy, please remember a few
things:
It is the role, not you that is redundant.
It is not your fault – the
world just happens, often in ways that you would rather it didn’t.
You will
still have the friends and memories that you made there.
Don’t be afraid or
ashamed to take whatever help and support is offered.
You are not alone.
Given
half a chance, you will grow stronger and gain from it.
Turn redundancy into a
rebirth.
