I was just let go from my third job this year, and I have to tell you, this one bloody hurt.
Way back in March, when all was well in our world and we didn’t know what we didn’t know was coming, I got myself a fairly average office job, thanks to a family friend putting in a ‘good word’, and getting me an interview.
The interview stage, I find, is where the ‘good words’ end, and you either sink or swim on your own recognisance.
Side note: Here's the best time of the day for productivity at work. Post continues below.
I’m pleased to say, I landed the job. All parties were excited and looking forward to the start date. That start date was to be on March 23. All I was waiting for was the paperwork.
It was a bit of a shock, then, when I received a phone call from the keen as mustard fellows I was due to begin working for after their morning meeting, telling me that they would not, in fact, be sending out said documents.
During their meeting with the head honchos of the business, they and the rest of the team were directed to close all offices, as a result of COVID-19 restrictions, that were about to be announced by the state and federal governments.
It’s safe to say we were both shell-shocked. All the signing off with head office and enthusiasm in the world had not foreseen a global pandemic and the consequences for business.
We agreed to stay in touch and reconvene when the whole thing was over. We figured it’d be a few weeks. Oh, how I now laugh at our naivety. Maniacal laughter, obviously.
Fast forward six weeks. This whole pandemic nonsense appears to be a spot more serious than I had originally believed.
The fellows I was supposed to be sharing coffee and daily banter with during the commission of our work were toiling from their family homes, among their children, spouses and neighbourhoods. And I… I was unemployed.