This time last year, I was enjoying a fairly relaxing four week assignment in Malta. It was very typical of the work I had been doing for much of the previous four years or so, hand-holding a client through testing and giving them guidance when needed. The people were very friendly and it was a pleasant enough working environment: our little team of three was ensconced in a conference room on the third floor, where the bank people could come and find us if they had any major issues. In the time I was there, they had very few minor issues, never mind major ones. Truth be told, it was a bit of a vacation.
The weather was good, as you would expect in the central Med at this time of year, with sunny skies and temperatures in the high 20s Celsius. It was also something of a trip down memory lane, as I'd been to the island on vacation some years previously. The bank also put us up in some rather fine spa hotels, including one week where I had my own private sun terrace and pool (which I was not able to use as I was at work during daylight hours).
But it was a good month in the sun, and I enjoyed it. What I had no way of knowing at the time was that it would be the last piece of work for the company and indeed my last piece of work for a year.
I came home, and settled down to wait for the next assignment. This is typical of the way I have worked for the last several years: you did your rime on site, whether a couple of days or a couple of years, then wait at home enjoying family life while the resourcing people find you something else to do. Sometimes you might be benched for a couple of days, sometimes a couple of weeks. On rare occasions it can stretch to a month or so, but hardly ever more than that (largely because the company is losing money when you're at home). So when I was at home for a second week, this was nothing unusual. I was talking pretty much every day to my line manager and the resourcing people, and it seemed there were a few options under consideration - dates were still open, or contracts were still not signed, the usual kinds of delays that happen in my line of work.
So it came as a bit of a surprise on a sunny early autumn Tuesday morning when a DHL Courier turned up on my doorstep - neither Ania nor I were expecting any parcel deliveries When I opened the package, there was a letter from the company, advising that my contract had been terminated and from that day I was suspended while I served out my three months notice period. The letter arrived two days after "celebrating" (if that's the right word) 13 years with them - I'd even received a congratulatory e-mail from our recently retired Charismatic Greek Founder and ex-Chairman. The previous day, I'd spent half an hour talking with my line manager about a probable assignment in Italy where contracts were due for signature that week. So the letter, completely without prior warning, came as a real bolt from the blue.
Now I know and accept there is no easy way of getting rid of someone - in previous lives I've had to do it myself - but of all the many and varied ways of doing it, sending a letter by courier without prior discussion must be one of the worst. Many friends and co-workers had been in similar positions over the previous couple of years, but to the best of my knowledge all of them were given at least some inkling something was about to happen by their managers or HR. Most had been advised at least two months earlier, officially, that their job was "at risk", so were able to start planning their next career move. I had none of that. In all my banking years, too, warnings had generally been given, unless the severance was a firing for misconduct or something. Only once in my life had I lost a job in similar unforeseen circumstances, and that was when the company itself folded one lunch time, as a result of the chairman and chief executive having a monumental fall-out over trading losses, and the chairman (who owned something like 80% of the share capital - it was a private company) decided he'd had enough and closed the place down. But at least he had the decency to meet with us all personally, as a whole-staff group and individually, to explain his reasons and answer our questions.
I got straight on the phone to my manager, who was totally embarrassed and said very little, beyond "I'll call you back in 10 minutes" - which she did, as part of a conference call with the regional head of HR. We had what can only be described as a full and frank exchange of views. It didn't change anything, of course, but at least it got things off my chest. They also agreed to allow me to keep my laptop (it was only a year or so old, and a good one, so that saved me a few quid), and agreed that I could write my own reference which they would sign (and so they did with minimal changes).
So truth be told, once I'd slept on it, I felt quite relaxed about the whole thing. I had been expecting something to happen for the best part of two years, as the company culled good people left, right and centre, with no rhyme or reason or obvious strategy in mind beyond cutting costs. It was a relief, really, and for a week or so I slept soundly, better than I had in a long time. I had three months' notice, hence three more salaries to come, plus with the last pay packet a redundancy pay-off (less than I felt I deserved after 13 years loyalty, but better than some people received) so paying the bills wasn't an immediate problem. I felt confident that my knowledge and experience would find a home fairly quickly and easily. I would start my own company, work for myself as a contractor and earn considerably more than the company had ever paid me.
It was all bollocks, of course. But it's very easy to see things more clearly with the benefit of hindsight.,
I registered with an agency, run by an old pal of mine who had also worked for the company when I first joined it way back when. He had been trying to tempt me away several times over the years, with promises of immediate placement and good money, but out of a stubborn and misguided sense of loyalty I had always said no. He was sorry to hear I'd been dumped, but was confident he could do something soon, and cited a few possibles in various parts of the world. I told him to go ahead. I registered on Jobserve, the internet recruitment site, and updated my LinkedIn profile and CV. I started making enquiries about forming a company, both registered here and off-shore. I was very bullish.
Very soon, through contacts I had on LinkedIn, people I had worked with, I got a number of leads for business consultancy opportunities, and pursued them vigorously. I got a number of telephone interviews lined up, and got one pretty good job offer that I turned down because I felt it wasn't quite right (there was an element of sales involved, and if there is one thing I'm not it's a salesman). Through another agency (and Jobserve) I pursued another possible in Mauritius that also led to a job offer, but the money was derisory so again I turned it down. But this was all within the first month and a half, so it looked set fair for a better year in 2013, as the Christmas wind-down kicked in.
But it didn't work out like that. Instead the market, at least the bit I was aiming at (independently supporting my old company's projects by plugging the obvious resource gaps that exist as a result of its wholesale staff reductions) dried up. The contacts I had at the company (those of them that stayed in touch anyway....) all agreed that it was very difficult right now, the pipeline as poor, nothing on the horizon yet etc etc etc. So I had to broaden my horizons.
I changed my Jobserve search criteria. It did the trick, in that my Inbox was flooded with BA jobs from the entire UK (and even the odd one from elsewhere). The problem was the vast majority of them were completely irrelevant, and beyond the magic words "Business Analyst" seemed to ignore completely all the other defined keyword. So I would spend an hour or two every day wading through the latest batch, and sending out applications for those that were even marginally relevant. I was probably sending half a dozen applications every day for a period of maybe six months.....you do the math: that's a lot of CVs out there.
Net result? Fuck all. Not one single interview with a potential employer, and precious few with the agencies. I reviewed and re-wrote the CV half a dozen times at least (that's ignoring the regular tweaks to make it more interesting for a particular job that really caught my imagination), and sought advice from a couple of agencies who (to be fair) were doing their best to help me, as well as one of my sons, who happens to be in the recruitment business (but in a different sector). It didn't make a lot of difference. Meanwhile, I opened my company and updated all the software on my laptop (my old employer's licences ran out and it stopped working). I got business cards printed up, and very professional they look too (not that I've had many opportunities to give 'em out). I suspended my company again, as I was paying out corporation tax and various other mandatory contributions on an income of bugger all.
I had regular disputes with arrogant young recruitment consultants who clearly had no clue what they were on about when it came to matching my skills with a job requirement. But most times, when I called to follow up an application, the agency guy was in a meeting, or with a client, or on vacation.....always a polite brush off, but a brush off nonetheless.
By the middle of the year, I was beginning to doubt myself. By this time, I was over three months past my 60th birthday, an age where many people (myself included) would happily retire and devote their time to different, personal projects. Like reading newspapers and books. Writing that long gestating novel or life story (that probably no-one will ever read, but what the hell....). Travelling for the sake of it, to places you want to go to when you want to. Growing old (dis)gracefully.
But this was not an option for me. The money had long run out, and we were living hand to mouth, borrowing from whoever we could to pay the bills and maxing the credit cards. I hated every minute of it, and feel a deep sense of shame and embarrassment still that I had to do that. But I have a wife and two little kids whom I adore to support, so I had to face it and not run away (as have some people I know - but that is another story altogether, and not for this blog at all). But clearly, whether I liked it or not, I had to face up to the fact that quite possibly I was bound for the scrapheap. Not that I could let on, of course......
Then, through an old colleague who I had spent a very pleasant six months in Limassol (look back to 2011 for some posts about that project), I heard of a good looking position with his company. I applied, more in hope than belief. I heard nothing for a couple of weeks, then one Wednesday afternoon, while on holiday at the Baltic coast, I had a call from the HR people - could I come in for an interview tomorrow? I explained this would not be possible because of my location, but agreed Thursday the following week was good. My spirits soared - it looked a great opportunity, and as soon as I got home that Saturday evening I booked a flight to London (not that I could afford it....).
The interview went well. I liked the guy and he liked me, on a personal level. The job was indeed a good fit, and I was told I would have work immediately: there was a backlog just waiting for bodies to join the company to take it on. We tentatively agreed a second interview for the following week and I flew home in high spirits. The next day I had a mail from the HR guy, telling me that I had made an excellent impression, but the interview would need to be pushed back another week as one of the guys who wanted to meet me was on a week's leave.
So two weeks later, on another sunny August day, I flew back to London again (I could it afford even less this time). I met three people, and again felt the discussions had gone well - indeed I flew home fully convinced I had got the job. Time dragged over the next week or so, with no news. I contacted the HR bloke, and was assured there was no problem beyond the people I had met being unable to schedule a convenient time to sit down and come up with a plan for me. Frustrating, but nothing I could do.
Then - my hopes crashed. I had a very nice and friendly mail, thanking me for my time, but there was no longer suitable work for me so they were not able "at this time" to make an offer, but this situation was likely to change "very soon" and would I still be interested. I sent a brief mail back expressing my disappointment, and stating that if the situation did change I would indeed be interested, but on my terms - that is contractor rates, not permanent staff. I have heard not a word since.
One of the guys who had interviewed me the second time expressed a slight concern he had - namely, that while I had extensive knowledge and experience in my chosen banking discipline, much of it was some years out of date, and that my BA experience was actually quite narrow, focusing on one part of one banking system, and he was worried that at my age the learning curve might prove too steep. At the time, I sought to reassure him and convince him that for me that was one of the major attractions of the job, the opportunity to learn new things and new disciplines, and that I couldn't wait to get started. He seemed satisfied, but the rejection brought that concern sharply back into focus, because I shared his concerns and had done so from Day 1. It's a classic Catch 22 situation - if I lack certain skills I need to be in the job to learn them (and want to do so), but without those skills I'm not going to get the job in the first place. And as for the at my age stuff.....well, ageism in the workplace is illegal (at least, so I thought....). And anyway, I don't feel anything like my age, physically or mentally, so that is total bollocks.
But the scrapheap loomed ever larger.
I was depressed for the next couple of weeks, found it difficult to keep positive and optimistic in front of people, Ania especially. The new school term came around, so life got back to normal - early start, morning school run, morning and (maybe) afternoon job hunting, afternoon school run, dinner, homework, tv for a while then bed. ......and next day, do it all over again.
That scrapheap was now definitely overshadowing my life, and I began to feel (though not openly admit) that I could well end up on it, whether I liked it or not. I was scared. Sleep became harder and harder to find, and less refreshing when it did come in the wee small hours.
Then an old pal sent me a mail introducing me to someone who was looking for someone with my profile to fill a couple of positions in Africa. Angola for a year didn't fill me with enthusiasm in all honesty, given the state of the place, but what the hell - beggars can't be choosers. A touch reluctantly, I sent in my CV. Simultaneously, an agency set up a telephone interview with a bank in Belgium for an interesting looking project. I didn't dare hope that something might come from either one, but as we were now in desperate straits, a little prayer at Mass that Sunday (a special service to mark the start of the new school year, so we had to go) seemed worthwhile.
On the Wednesday, I had a mail - can we talk this Friday about your CV. Damn' right was can. Friday came, and we connected - the guy my mate had referred me to. I knew him already from some years back, when he had been a bank PM at a project I had worked on for a month or so. We talked for an hour, and at the end of it, had agreed terms for a 6 month contract, with good potential for extension beyond that time. He promised to get the paperwork moving as soon as possible "but probably next week". By the end of that same day, the contract arrived in my InBox.
Cue much yelling, tears and dancing around the flat like a couple of lunatics.
So tomorrow, I hop on a plane to Qatar (not Angola: thankfully someone else can take that one) for an initial three weeks on site. I've never been there before, so I'm looking forward to experiencing a new country (Qatar), a new city (Doha) and a new airline (Qatar Airways, "the World's 5 Star Airline", it says). Look out for some blogs, probably illustrated for a change, over the next few weeks. Most of all, I'm looking forward to doing some work again, after 11 months, 3 weeks and 2 days.
The scrapheap is receding behind me now, as I've managed to scrape past it, but I am acutely aware of its existence - I always knew it was there somewhere but the past year has shown me how close it actually is, especially at my age. Bur forewarned is forearmed - it's in my hands to make sure I continue to avoid it now.
I can't wait to get started.
The weather was good, as you would expect in the central Med at this time of year, with sunny skies and temperatures in the high 20s Celsius. It was also something of a trip down memory lane, as I'd been to the island on vacation some years previously. The bank also put us up in some rather fine spa hotels, including one week where I had my own private sun terrace and pool (which I was not able to use as I was at work during daylight hours).
But it was a good month in the sun, and I enjoyed it. What I had no way of knowing at the time was that it would be the last piece of work for the company and indeed my last piece of work for a year.
I came home, and settled down to wait for the next assignment. This is typical of the way I have worked for the last several years: you did your rime on site, whether a couple of days or a couple of years, then wait at home enjoying family life while the resourcing people find you something else to do. Sometimes you might be benched for a couple of days, sometimes a couple of weeks. On rare occasions it can stretch to a month or so, but hardly ever more than that (largely because the company is losing money when you're at home). So when I was at home for a second week, this was nothing unusual. I was talking pretty much every day to my line manager and the resourcing people, and it seemed there were a few options under consideration - dates were still open, or contracts were still not signed, the usual kinds of delays that happen in my line of work.
So it came as a bit of a surprise on a sunny early autumn Tuesday morning when a DHL Courier turned up on my doorstep - neither Ania nor I were expecting any parcel deliveries When I opened the package, there was a letter from the company, advising that my contract had been terminated and from that day I was suspended while I served out my three months notice period. The letter arrived two days after "celebrating" (if that's the right word) 13 years with them - I'd even received a congratulatory e-mail from our recently retired Charismatic Greek Founder and ex-Chairman. The previous day, I'd spent half an hour talking with my line manager about a probable assignment in Italy where contracts were due for signature that week. So the letter, completely without prior warning, came as a real bolt from the blue.
Now I know and accept there is no easy way of getting rid of someone - in previous lives I've had to do it myself - but of all the many and varied ways of doing it, sending a letter by courier without prior discussion must be one of the worst. Many friends and co-workers had been in similar positions over the previous couple of years, but to the best of my knowledge all of them were given at least some inkling something was about to happen by their managers or HR. Most had been advised at least two months earlier, officially, that their job was "at risk", so were able to start planning their next career move. I had none of that. In all my banking years, too, warnings had generally been given, unless the severance was a firing for misconduct or something. Only once in my life had I lost a job in similar unforeseen circumstances, and that was when the company itself folded one lunch time, as a result of the chairman and chief executive having a monumental fall-out over trading losses, and the chairman (who owned something like 80% of the share capital - it was a private company) decided he'd had enough and closed the place down. But at least he had the decency to meet with us all personally, as a whole-staff group and individually, to explain his reasons and answer our questions.
I got straight on the phone to my manager, who was totally embarrassed and said very little, beyond "I'll call you back in 10 minutes" - which she did, as part of a conference call with the regional head of HR. We had what can only be described as a full and frank exchange of views. It didn't change anything, of course, but at least it got things off my chest. They also agreed to allow me to keep my laptop (it was only a year or so old, and a good one, so that saved me a few quid), and agreed that I could write my own reference which they would sign (and so they did with minimal changes).
So truth be told, once I'd slept on it, I felt quite relaxed about the whole thing. I had been expecting something to happen for the best part of two years, as the company culled good people left, right and centre, with no rhyme or reason or obvious strategy in mind beyond cutting costs. It was a relief, really, and for a week or so I slept soundly, better than I had in a long time. I had three months' notice, hence three more salaries to come, plus with the last pay packet a redundancy pay-off (less than I felt I deserved after 13 years loyalty, but better than some people received) so paying the bills wasn't an immediate problem. I felt confident that my knowledge and experience would find a home fairly quickly and easily. I would start my own company, work for myself as a contractor and earn considerably more than the company had ever paid me.
It was all bollocks, of course. But it's very easy to see things more clearly with the benefit of hindsight.,
I registered with an agency, run by an old pal of mine who had also worked for the company when I first joined it way back when. He had been trying to tempt me away several times over the years, with promises of immediate placement and good money, but out of a stubborn and misguided sense of loyalty I had always said no. He was sorry to hear I'd been dumped, but was confident he could do something soon, and cited a few possibles in various parts of the world. I told him to go ahead. I registered on Jobserve, the internet recruitment site, and updated my LinkedIn profile and CV. I started making enquiries about forming a company, both registered here and off-shore. I was very bullish.
Very soon, through contacts I had on LinkedIn, people I had worked with, I got a number of leads for business consultancy opportunities, and pursued them vigorously. I got a number of telephone interviews lined up, and got one pretty good job offer that I turned down because I felt it wasn't quite right (there was an element of sales involved, and if there is one thing I'm not it's a salesman). Through another agency (and Jobserve) I pursued another possible in Mauritius that also led to a job offer, but the money was derisory so again I turned it down. But this was all within the first month and a half, so it looked set fair for a better year in 2013, as the Christmas wind-down kicked in.
But it didn't work out like that. Instead the market, at least the bit I was aiming at (independently supporting my old company's projects by plugging the obvious resource gaps that exist as a result of its wholesale staff reductions) dried up. The contacts I had at the company (those of them that stayed in touch anyway....) all agreed that it was very difficult right now, the pipeline as poor, nothing on the horizon yet etc etc etc. So I had to broaden my horizons.
I changed my Jobserve search criteria. It did the trick, in that my Inbox was flooded with BA jobs from the entire UK (and even the odd one from elsewhere). The problem was the vast majority of them were completely irrelevant, and beyond the magic words "Business Analyst" seemed to ignore completely all the other defined keyword. So I would spend an hour or two every day wading through the latest batch, and sending out applications for those that were even marginally relevant. I was probably sending half a dozen applications every day for a period of maybe six months.....you do the math: that's a lot of CVs out there.
Net result? Fuck all. Not one single interview with a potential employer, and precious few with the agencies. I reviewed and re-wrote the CV half a dozen times at least (that's ignoring the regular tweaks to make it more interesting for a particular job that really caught my imagination), and sought advice from a couple of agencies who (to be fair) were doing their best to help me, as well as one of my sons, who happens to be in the recruitment business (but in a different sector). It didn't make a lot of difference. Meanwhile, I opened my company and updated all the software on my laptop (my old employer's licences ran out and it stopped working). I got business cards printed up, and very professional they look too (not that I've had many opportunities to give 'em out). I suspended my company again, as I was paying out corporation tax and various other mandatory contributions on an income of bugger all.
I had regular disputes with arrogant young recruitment consultants who clearly had no clue what they were on about when it came to matching my skills with a job requirement. But most times, when I called to follow up an application, the agency guy was in a meeting, or with a client, or on vacation.....always a polite brush off, but a brush off nonetheless.
By the middle of the year, I was beginning to doubt myself. By this time, I was over three months past my 60th birthday, an age where many people (myself included) would happily retire and devote their time to different, personal projects. Like reading newspapers and books. Writing that long gestating novel or life story (that probably no-one will ever read, but what the hell....). Travelling for the sake of it, to places you want to go to when you want to. Growing old (dis)gracefully.
But this was not an option for me. The money had long run out, and we were living hand to mouth, borrowing from whoever we could to pay the bills and maxing the credit cards. I hated every minute of it, and feel a deep sense of shame and embarrassment still that I had to do that. But I have a wife and two little kids whom I adore to support, so I had to face it and not run away (as have some people I know - but that is another story altogether, and not for this blog at all). But clearly, whether I liked it or not, I had to face up to the fact that quite possibly I was bound for the scrapheap. Not that I could let on, of course......
Then, through an old colleague who I had spent a very pleasant six months in Limassol (look back to 2011 for some posts about that project), I heard of a good looking position with his company. I applied, more in hope than belief. I heard nothing for a couple of weeks, then one Wednesday afternoon, while on holiday at the Baltic coast, I had a call from the HR people - could I come in for an interview tomorrow? I explained this would not be possible because of my location, but agreed Thursday the following week was good. My spirits soared - it looked a great opportunity, and as soon as I got home that Saturday evening I booked a flight to London (not that I could afford it....).
The interview went well. I liked the guy and he liked me, on a personal level. The job was indeed a good fit, and I was told I would have work immediately: there was a backlog just waiting for bodies to join the company to take it on. We tentatively agreed a second interview for the following week and I flew home in high spirits. The next day I had a mail from the HR guy, telling me that I had made an excellent impression, but the interview would need to be pushed back another week as one of the guys who wanted to meet me was on a week's leave.
So two weeks later, on another sunny August day, I flew back to London again (I could it afford even less this time). I met three people, and again felt the discussions had gone well - indeed I flew home fully convinced I had got the job. Time dragged over the next week or so, with no news. I contacted the HR bloke, and was assured there was no problem beyond the people I had met being unable to schedule a convenient time to sit down and come up with a plan for me. Frustrating, but nothing I could do.
Then - my hopes crashed. I had a very nice and friendly mail, thanking me for my time, but there was no longer suitable work for me so they were not able "at this time" to make an offer, but this situation was likely to change "very soon" and would I still be interested. I sent a brief mail back expressing my disappointment, and stating that if the situation did change I would indeed be interested, but on my terms - that is contractor rates, not permanent staff. I have heard not a word since.
One of the guys who had interviewed me the second time expressed a slight concern he had - namely, that while I had extensive knowledge and experience in my chosen banking discipline, much of it was some years out of date, and that my BA experience was actually quite narrow, focusing on one part of one banking system, and he was worried that at my age the learning curve might prove too steep. At the time, I sought to reassure him and convince him that for me that was one of the major attractions of the job, the opportunity to learn new things and new disciplines, and that I couldn't wait to get started. He seemed satisfied, but the rejection brought that concern sharply back into focus, because I shared his concerns and had done so from Day 1. It's a classic Catch 22 situation - if I lack certain skills I need to be in the job to learn them (and want to do so), but without those skills I'm not going to get the job in the first place. And as for the at my age stuff.....well, ageism in the workplace is illegal (at least, so I thought....). And anyway, I don't feel anything like my age, physically or mentally, so that is total bollocks.
But the scrapheap loomed ever larger.
I was depressed for the next couple of weeks, found it difficult to keep positive and optimistic in front of people, Ania especially. The new school term came around, so life got back to normal - early start, morning school run, morning and (maybe) afternoon job hunting, afternoon school run, dinner, homework, tv for a while then bed. ......and next day, do it all over again.
That scrapheap was now definitely overshadowing my life, and I began to feel (though not openly admit) that I could well end up on it, whether I liked it or not. I was scared. Sleep became harder and harder to find, and less refreshing when it did come in the wee small hours.
Then an old pal sent me a mail introducing me to someone who was looking for someone with my profile to fill a couple of positions in Africa. Angola for a year didn't fill me with enthusiasm in all honesty, given the state of the place, but what the hell - beggars can't be choosers. A touch reluctantly, I sent in my CV. Simultaneously, an agency set up a telephone interview with a bank in Belgium for an interesting looking project. I didn't dare hope that something might come from either one, but as we were now in desperate straits, a little prayer at Mass that Sunday (a special service to mark the start of the new school year, so we had to go) seemed worthwhile.
On the Wednesday, I had a mail - can we talk this Friday about your CV. Damn' right was can. Friday came, and we connected - the guy my mate had referred me to. I knew him already from some years back, when he had been a bank PM at a project I had worked on for a month or so. We talked for an hour, and at the end of it, had agreed terms for a 6 month contract, with good potential for extension beyond that time. He promised to get the paperwork moving as soon as possible "but probably next week". By the end of that same day, the contract arrived in my InBox.
Cue much yelling, tears and dancing around the flat like a couple of lunatics.
So tomorrow, I hop on a plane to Qatar (not Angola: thankfully someone else can take that one) for an initial three weeks on site. I've never been there before, so I'm looking forward to experiencing a new country (Qatar), a new city (Doha) and a new airline (Qatar Airways, "the World's 5 Star Airline", it says). Look out for some blogs, probably illustrated for a change, over the next few weeks. Most of all, I'm looking forward to doing some work again, after 11 months, 3 weeks and 2 days.
The scrapheap is receding behind me now, as I've managed to scrape past it, but I am acutely aware of its existence - I always knew it was there somewhere but the past year has shown me how close it actually is, especially at my age. Bur forewarned is forearmed - it's in my hands to make sure I continue to avoid it now.
I can't wait to get started.
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