I should have written masses of blogs by now, but no, this is my first. I am a writer but have developed the most hideous case of writers block. Not only that but I have procrastinated; I actually can’t say that word, I can spell it but my lips won’t form it; it doesn’t roll off the tongue very well at all. I have also had this, ‘Can’t be arsed’ attitude. All due to circumstances beyond my control.
This blog is an attempt at getting my creative juices flowing, not only flowing but positively flooding out.
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The words, “Your job is at risk” rang around my head bouncing off brain cells like a pin ball machine. I couldn’t get my head around what was being said to me. “By law” my manager went on, “We have to give you thirty days ‘At risk notice’.
Wow! I didn’t see that coming. I knew the government where not renewing the contract but I thought they would at least be replacing the programme with something else (The programme was teaching the unemployed Numeracy, Literacy and Employability Skills) But no! It seems that there are not enough unemployed to go round!
For thirty days myself and my colleague walked around in a daze, expecting the worsed but hoping a miracle would happen; it was all a mistake or the government had changed their mind. It wasn’t and they didn’t!
Now I’m not a cry baby but I found myself bursting into torrents of tears at the oddest of moments, both at home and at work. It was quite embarrassing. The thought of saying goodbye to some very special people was agonizing, then, there was the thought of losing my wages and the strain on our finances at home. The thirty days dragged like a thirty day wait in the dentist’s waiting room. Thirty days came, and went and no redundancy notice. With renewed hope I went in to work on the Monday morning thinking things were looking up when there on my desk was a note from my manager, ‘ Can you come to my office at 10.30.’ This was it! I know I wasn’t being sentenced to death or anything like, but the feeling of doom I felt was scary; my stomach was doing somersaults and my lungs seemed to deflate, my asthma had decided to rear up and get me, right at my most vulnerable moment.
It was over in moments! Due to some legal technicality the company couldn’t give us our redundancy notices until today, my manager went on to explain that she had been left in the dark as much as myself and my colleague, that she felt awful having to give us our notices and that I should go home because I looked like I was going to expire at any moment. And that was it. I went home, cried, had an asthma attack, cried some more, was sick and then I cried some more. This went on for two days. The thought of facing my colleagues and their pity was, at the least embarrassing and at the most, horrifying. I was inconsolable and still am, even now, two and a half months on. I feel dreadful most of the time, useless, some of the time and frustrated all the time. I have worked so hard to get, first, my degree and then my teaching degree only to have the first decent job ever, whipped away from beneath me.
To add to my frustration and anger, companies whom I’ve had interviews with do not have the decency to phone back and when I phone them, they fob me off with some crap about the employability sector being all over the place because of the government cuts, ‘The jobs been withdrawn’ or my particular favourite, ‘Were not sure if there is a vacancy now, we’ll get back to you’. Which, of course, they don’t. So why advertise a bloody job if there isn’t one?! This in my mind is no excuse for the complete disregard of someone’s feelings, hopes and aspirations. My lovely partner, Charlie tried to make me feel better by saying things like, “They haven’t replied because they know you’re so much more intelligent than they are, they see you as threat” and things like that; good intentions but not much help really.
So, now you know why I have writers block, or, that can’t be arsed attitude.
