Being unemployed may sound like the ideal life for most, waking up late and lunching with friends, and all night cocktails without any thoughts of seedy mornings in the office. I live to tell the tale that unemployment is not a life in paradise.
Employment in itself is defining. To some it comes with resentment of working for the “man”, slaving away for someone else, or even being self employed and slaving away to keep the wolves from the door. For many it means turning up to work every day and socialising with work mates, participating in something that is worthwhile and being rewarded with a pay packet. To me it also meant contributing to the community and a sense of pride of doing something I really enjoyed doing.
In social gatherings, the most often asked question is “What do you do for a living” and in my inner city circles this is closely followed by “what does your husband do”. I was a proud story teller of my profession and the organisation I worked for, my eyes would light up when recounting my daily life in emergency assistance helping others. I got my big ticks in life by telling people what I did for a living.
It all came crashing to a sudden death the day I was made redundant, when I was walked immediately off the premises in front of respected colleagues and peers. Suddenly my role as co-contributor to the family income had vanished and in its place was a mother who was out of work. A huge chunk of my ego came crashing down as well, and then the unbelievable sense of the “why me” period that ensued. No amount of self questioning would appease me and I was far too proud to ask my ex-bosses the real reason why I was let go.
Well meaning friends suggested taking time off to reflect on life and enjoy spending time with the family. After all, I was now given the freedom to only accept a job that I really wanted. I could pick and choose the companies that would treat me best. It doesn’t actually work like that, and after six months of searching, I decided to blog about my experience.
Employment in itself is defining. To some it comes with resentment of working for the “man”, slaving away for someone else, or even being self employed and slaving away to keep the wolves from the door. For many it means turning up to work every day and socialising with work mates, participating in something that is worthwhile and being rewarded with a pay packet. To me it also meant contributing to the community and a sense of pride of doing something I really enjoyed doing.
In social gatherings, the most often asked question is “What do you do for a living” and in my inner city circles this is closely followed by “what does your husband do”. I was a proud story teller of my profession and the organisation I worked for, my eyes would light up when recounting my daily life in emergency assistance helping others. I got my big ticks in life by telling people what I did for a living.
It all came crashing to a sudden death the day I was made redundant, when I was walked immediately off the premises in front of respected colleagues and peers. Suddenly my role as co-contributor to the family income had vanished and in its place was a mother who was out of work. A huge chunk of my ego came crashing down as well, and then the unbelievable sense of the “why me” period that ensued. No amount of self questioning would appease me and I was far too proud to ask my ex-bosses the real reason why I was let go.
Well meaning friends suggested taking time off to reflect on life and enjoy spending time with the family. After all, I was now given the freedom to only accept a job that I really wanted. I could pick and choose the companies that would treat me best. It doesn’t actually work like that, and after six months of searching, I decided to blog about my experience.
Similar to a mate's experience:
ReplyDeletehttp://kiltforhire.com/2011/03/04/chapter-iv-a-new-hope/