I’ve never thought of myself as a grown up blogger, one with an agenda or issue. I came near recently with a tissue, but it was lies. So I content myself with peeping over the Bock/FMC/Twenty/Sam/Gimme/Primal/Eolai wall and saying “Hi” to the big boys and girls. (See I can’t even do the sexy hyperlink thing). I’m not a rebel with or without cause, am not all dressed up with somewhere to go, have no great unique angst to share and at forty and nine years find the confessional diary thing crammed full of lumbago and piles, so it’s always with reluctance I put tap to keyboard and share.
But there’s a change in the ether, imperceptible right now, but the seeds were sown last Monday week at my *cough* workplace.
I have issue folks, I have anger.
Reluctantly though, for in this situation it’s best to keep the head down and not be noticed. You see on day 8 of our recession, redundancies have been announced where I *cough again* work. Cast a very cold eye on Irish Industry for the redundance horsie is never far away. To be honest, a dog with a mallet up his hole could see something coming down but it was a shock. And the silver lining is that I have issue, have genuine and real issue which I can jump up and down about and make noise and frump a lot about. And be upset too.
I mean who the hell do THEY think they are, threatening me with a lay off, yes threatening, for we are not sure yet who is to go. We’re looking for volunteers. Hoping for people to take the hop in front of me so I can put off the hopping day till another time.
I lie; I can’t get angry about this. This is the third time this catastrophe has fallen at my doorstop and there’s no point in getting angry and no one to get even with. It goes with the territory. Some people are concerned with the “package”, the parachute payment which comes dependant on years of service. But the newbie’s have no such contemplation; they are stuck between the rock and hard place. And we’re in the 30 day consultation period which means that nobody knows who’s going yet and there are lots of whispers and the atmosphere is on the turn, beginning to curdle, getting ready for bitter.
For my own part, I feel vulnerable to some extent, there are others to think about God dam you Sniffle, mouths to feed, bills to pay, and mortgages repayments don’t grow on trees you know. So far I’ve replaced the old lies in my CV with new more sparkly porkies, and for a fleeting minute am pleased with my pantheon of experience and qualifications.
But there are others here who have no wait, they are in the mandatory category, “Good night Irene and take your pillow with you please, there is no bed for you here and don’t forget your false teeth and that, you made this bed yourself” They have to go in a while.
So I could be net casting soon, dusting off the suit which I bought with last redundance, practising that keen but wise look, searching for that neutral place in the upper middle of the interviewer’s forehead, smiling more and pretending.
Do you remember Yosser Hughes ?
“Gis a job. I can do that “