I’ve been living under threat of redundancy for about six weeks now.
At the end of March I was abruptly told to stop all my work and hand it over to colleagues, as we literally weren’t budgeted for three people.
Since then, I’ve had the task of finding a new role within the company.
Unlike most companies, they don’t automatically redeploy people - the onus is on the individual to find their next assignment!
I have been totally unable to do this. Since March, there has been precisely ONE vacancy I was even remotely qualified for - which of course, I applied for. I got no response at all for the next six weeks, so naturally assumed I’d been unsuccessful.
Last week, the vacancy was advertised AGAIN, and I was informed my application had been put forward (no explanation of where it had lingered the rest of the time…)
So, having already written off the job, I once again began frantically revising (some of the scope was things I studied 10+ years ago), in anticipation of an interview.
I wasn’t guaranteed to get an interview, of course, but had to get up-to-speed in case, so I’ve spent the last week as if cramming for an exam - the only difference being I didn’t know when (or if) it was!
Having put all that effort in, I got a note today thanking me for my application, which, whilst noting “some positives”, said a better qualified candidate had got the job. I don’t even know if I’m upset or relieved. I do know I’ve done a load of study for nothing (similar vacancy is not likely to arise again in the foreseeable future, so I won’t be able to use it towards another try).
The clock is ticking inexorably towards the day I am out. Nobody is going before 16th July, but I believe letters will go out mid-June, so we have exactly the 30 days’ consultation set out in corporate policy, before we are shown the door.
I still don’t know whether to keep hoping and trying, or to resign myself to my fate. Even the hope is exhausting: thinking you might have found an opportunity that would be the salvation, and do a load of preparation to boost your chances, and then find it went to someone else anyway.
On the positive side, I no longer have to do the revision I would have continued today, tomorrow or at the weekend. But everything I’ve already done is for the bin, and I’m back to square one, with no work, no new opportunities in sight, nothing…
My health is deteriorating - dunno if it’s strictly the MS. I’m having another outbreak of the unexplained “conjunctivitis” - which ISN’T conjunctivitis, because I’ve been repeatedly checked and investigated - but no-one thinks it has anything to do with the MS either. So I’m left with this irritating (literally) and depressing problem, which keeps flaring up, but which nobody (including eye hospital) seems able to explain).
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, I dropped a weight on my face whilst exercising last week (other side to the “conjunctivitis”). Amazingly - thanks, presumably, to the neoprene coating on the weight, and liberal applications of arnica - I’m not black and blue. Don’t think anything broke. But it still feels bruised on the bone, and that’s depressing, too.
In some ways, I just want to retire to bed and wait for the inevitable letter. I don’t feel as if any effort I make on the work front has any bearing on the final outcome, although I am still trying to appear as positive and willing as possible…
I don’t feel as if work even care. Those of us out of work (which is not just me) are treated like dirt. Yesterday, we were supposed to join a conference call to discuss “our situation”, and how we’re all getting on. The chairperson didn’t even show up for the call - no apology, explanation, nothing. We’re not even seen as meriting an apology if we get invited to things which don’t happen, now.
I’d love to think this might all turn out to be a blessing in disguise, and that I’d leave with a nice golden handshake, and end up working for someone better!
But I can’t persuade myself that a chronically-ill 46-year-old woman, who’s never really worked anywhere else, is just going to walk into another job… Especially the way things are now.
Oh, and I’m not ill enough to claim DLA, or ESA, or any of it. Just ill enough to think I can’t begin again from scratch, at 46.