My Actual Life Right Now
PROLOGUE
I always knew what I wanted to do in life. I was going to be a doctor. Or a mechanic. Or a firefighter. Or a chef. I was going to save lives, fix things, work with my hands, be a part of the community. And I knew when and how I was going to do it. Whatever I wanted to do. I had a 25 plan. At 10, that seemed like a long time to make sure I had everything in place in order to achieve my dreams and ambitions. By 15 I had narrowed down what exactly it was that I was going to do, setting in motion the route I had to take to get there. You see, I didn’t come from a particularly well-off family and just the idea of maintaining a full-time job was ambitious enough, let alone in something that might be deemed a career. So I knew what I wanted to do and I knew how I wanted to do it. And all by the age of 25.
Now, of course, things change, people change, plans take… detours. But that’s okay because I’m still on the right track. With the approach of my 25th birthday, I decided to rethink my strategy. I had a decent job, the pay was good, it was field-adjacent to what I want to do. I decided instead of thinking such long term, I should think short(er) term. Compartmentalise. This I could do. One thing at a time. And not just in my career. What my job affords me is the time and money to do other things. I really want to pass my driving test. So I booked my theory. Passed my theory. And started taking driving lessons. I even booked the practical test.
When it came to my personal life, like most people, when I was young I thought I would have someone by 25 - bahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Life really doesn’t prepare you for that. But it was okay because it was on my to do list, right after driving, finding a new job and look to move.
It’s funny how things turn out.
FRIDAY
“We’re making cuts.”
This is why the meeting was so important. Everybody had seen the email, a few had even tried to get out of it, but one thing was sure, nobody knew what it was about. Until now.
We were already a small team, ten of us, and this would have been the second round of cuts in the same amount of years. Granted, we went from a staff of about 30 to ten, with a few resigning in the middle, but it’s hardly like there was much downsizing that could really be done. But it was the case and we were going to be halved.
“This is how it’s going to go”, tall, dark and vampiric was taking us through the structure of the new and improve company, his CEO position never wavering from the top spot, “three of these current jobs will stay, and we have two new positions we need to fill.”
We bandy around our enclosed documents of the new job roles.
“This weekend I want you to take your packs home, have a look at the roles, think about what you want to apply for, if you want to apply for any, and on Monday we’ll start consultation.”
We side glance at each other eyeing up the potential of our colleagues cum rivals.
“Monday will be consultation, Tuesday we’ll hold interviews and by Thursday we’ll announce. The change will happen the following week.”
“Sorry, what?!”, the leader of our pack jolts his head up from the job roles. We all look round in the sudden realisation of our very real and very sudden predicament.
“We have to make the changes at the beginning of next month. Which is Friday after next.” TDV tries to look sympathetic to our cause to keep us on his side of sympathy, but Leader gets up and leaves trailing, “I have work to do.” We all follow.
My desk is awash with work, so I grab my cigarettes and head outside.
“We’re being downsized”
“What?!”, my flatmate. I thought it best to tell her straight away.
“Yeah”
“When did this happen?”
“Just now”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know”
“How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know”
…
“To be honest, I don’t think it’s quite registered just yet”
“How is everyone else taking it?”
“Not too good, I guess. I don’t know”
I can’t be bothered to inhale anymore, so I stump out the cigarette and walk back in. I finish up the day and go home clutching “documents enclosed”.
SATURDAY
I wake up relatively early and prepare myself with the necessary information to tackle this head on.
What are the jobs on offer?
What are my other options?
How much money do I have?
What the fuck am I doing?
I haven’t started before my flatmate slinks into the living room and plops down on the sofa.
“Are these the job roles?”, she leans over and picks the documents off a dining room chair I’ve placed in front of me as a makeshift table.
“Yeah.”
“Can I have a look?”
She starts to read through everything, the letter of intent, the new company structure and, of course, the job descriptions.
“Do you know what, I haven’t actually looked through any of it. I just kind of scanned it. But it doesn’t exactly sound too appealing.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. But I’m trying to figure it out.”
I spend the rest of the day actually reading through the job descriptions, plunging into the unknown depths of my bank account and reviewing my CV. Until the football came on.
SUNDAY
I spend time with my grandad. He’s the business sort, but really he’s a manchild. We drink and talk about my options. But mostly we drink.
MONDAY
I came in later than usual, we only needed to be there for our meeting. I chatted with those of the pack that were still there before being summoned into the small office.
“Okay, so I’m just going to explain a few things about what we’re going to do here”, inhumane resources leaned into the conversation that she initiated, “in this period of time, the consultation period, we will gather information from you, talk about what you would like to do, what your options are and if there is anything that we can accommodate you with.”
We go through the formalities of what I would be entitled to if I should be made redundant and the meeting lasts about 10 minutes max.
I go home and think about my options. Like, actually think about my options.
TUESDAY
I’m a lion. I stalk the grounds, eyeing up my prey, lying in wait for my time to come. My time to pounce. TDV and IR call me into the small office. They give me the spiel, TDV taking the lead, “so firstly we need to know what position or positions you’re applying for…” I listen and wait for my cue. I’ve rehearsed this over and over in my head.
“After taking careful consideration and looking at the options available to me, I have decided to take redundancy.”
The air conditioning, which is making me incredibly cold, whirls in the otherwise silent room. Eventually IR chips in, “erm, well, yes, I mean, that’s okay, you can do that, if that’s what you want.”
I don’t know who’s more surprised, TDV or me being surprised that TDV is surprised. The meeting lasts 5 minutes.
WED-SAT
It’s irrelevant. Fast-forward.
SUNDAY
My birthday. No word of a lie, this all took place the week before my 25th birthday. Call it fate, call it destiny, I like the term kismet. But here I am, reaching my 25th birthday, my 25 plan. No job, no destined career, ruling out line 2 on my to do list. Sort of. I still have this plan of compartmentalising and I’ve spent all this money on driving so I’m not going to stop just because I don’t have a job. I still have money coming in so I can still continue down that line. Then I’ll work on the job thing - number 2 on to do. Besides, I’ve booked the test, it’s in a couple of weeks, then maybe I’ll take some time off, go on holiday, come back at the beginning of the following month ready to start the next chapter of my life.
MONDAY
It was a bank holiday, so regardless of whether I work or not, I wouldn’t have been working that day so I decided not to work. I allowed that.
TUESDAY
Or rather today. This morning I got an email from the people you book your driving test with, I don’t know what they’re called, telling me that the examiner that was due to do my test was unavailable and had cancel. It’s had been rearranged for the end of the month. Now I know that I have no idea whether I would have passed or not, but I kind of had to laugh. There goes another plan out of the window, looks like I won’t be going on holiday at the end of the month. Looks like I won’t be able to move onto number 2 on to do when I thought. There’s a famous quote (I won’t mention who by, but if you know, you know) “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Well, I must be God’s favourite comedienne.