Some words on redundancy during a global pandemic
I have 9 working days left in my notice period, and despite my very best efforts to keep positive, this morning I had to make my excuses on Slack and have a cry offline.
I know I’m not alone here, but I actually received my notice before the wave of Covid-19 redundancies. Since then I’ve watched handfuls of friends receive the same news, or learn that they are on the brink of being cast aside as people lock their doors and try to make sense of what’s going on.
I was made redundant about a month ago, a few days after returning from about 10 days off with the worst flu I’ve ever had. Looking back, I realise that I’m probably one of the thousands who have either had or will have coronavirus without being tested or knowing about it at the time.
I love my job. I have spent the last year working with a team who are a dream to spend time with, who get up every morning to build solutions to problems which most people don’t even know how to define. It’s been an inspiring year working in a beautiful location. The news that this is going to end (and not just for me) has been pretty heart-breaking.
It was very difficult to compute what was going on while my head still hurt. I hadn’t quite recovered, and my brain was foggy. I still felt sinews of viral remnants displaced in some hidden passage between my brain, throat and neck while I tried to digest what was going on.
The day after my redundancy was confirmed we decided to close the office due to the outbreak, and work remotely for the foreseeable future. I had coped with the situation up until that point but the thought of being banished back to the one bed flat I had only just managed to escape, with the knowledge that I would never return to our office was hard to stomach.
To be clear: I am lucky. I have a home, savings and a partner I can rely on. I have heard horror stories of redundancies made to people who have been in-between homes, relationships or starting new families: at critical turning points in their lives where a sustainable income is a lifeline.
But even in my fortunate position, this has been a really difficult time.
As soon as my redundancy was confirmed I made a plan to pack my bag and walk the Camino de Santiago alone for a month.
Instead the glimmers of light slowly blinkered out, one by one: Our holiday was cancelled. Travel within the UK was banned. The news got scarier. Socialising was banned. Vague plans to escape to Somerset were cut off as my parents went into self-isolation. Lockdown happened and we ourselves had to isolate in the flat.
Now, along with hundreds of thousands around the world, I am stuck. Nowhere to escape to with a paralysed job market to scroll through.
In my last weeks of work, I have clung to the last remaining threads of being part of a team, ignoring the looming end point. We can’t have a quick beer after the last day, or clear our desks properly. The office plants are sat in my living room, rescued from desks which could be left empty for months.
There are amazing things happening in the world, including on your doorstep. The kindness which has come out of this pandemic is wonderful. I’m keeping positive, keeping busy, keeping involved, but it’s the combination of it all which makes it hard.
I’m thinking of everyone else who is facing the same situation in these strange, strange times. Hopefully the Ministry of Defence will finish making that massive lasagne for us all sometime soon…
Hang in there x
