Like a rabbit caught in the headlights of your (soon to be ex-company) car you are there in front of the suddenly revealed Albert Pierrepoint of the company. What started out as a day of meetings where nothing would ever be decided (and why are Sales always 11 minutes late for the start?) and, if something had been decided nobody was quite sure exactly what it was, the day has turned into something that you couldn't control.
It could be like this
The MD's PA calls; she is strangely distant. "Could you come to a meeting, yes right now please".
You bound into the MDs office full of fake bonhomie with your voice an octave lower than used at home so it sounds commanding and authoritative. Perhaps they've signed off the capex for the defluffaliser, the budget submission was cravenly too low, the request to fly to New York for a meeting has been agreed. The day is pregnant with possibilities. And you never saw it coming.
The first time.
I had no idea that anything was wrong. I had a call to the Sales Director's office, not unusual in itself but usually the precursor to a telling off for something. No pleasantries, no expressions of regret. A letter given to me rather brusquely. I remember the phrase distinctly - "you are surplus to requirements".
Surplus.
To requirements.
I don't remember much else about that meeting except the promise that any redeployment would mean the salary would be preserved. Withdrawn 24 hours later with no explanation or regrets.
The drive home was just a blur, in my new, large executive car of just 24 hours. To be honest I had to stop in a lay by for a while to compose myself. My wife asked me was I ill as I never came home early. I shared the news. Actually I blurted it out on the doorstep as I came into the house. Interest rates were at 12% and rising, we'd doubled the mortgage to move to the area within the last year and we had a six month old baby. They were to take my company car and my wife's car (I was entitled to a car for her as well). I had one month's notice. For 48 hours I could barely function it seemed.
And get this. I went into work the following day. I still can't believe I did this but I think it was basically denial. The truly amazing thing though is that being made redundant is like having it publicly announced you have a terminal and highly contagious disease. No one would talk to me properly, I was shunned at lunch time and no one would meet my eyes. Except of course for the others that had also had the news. We sat around like zombies, the living dead and a complete embarrassment to the company.
The second time
Now this was easier. The whole company was being closed (200 people) and it was announced 6 months in advance. Further more there was to be a bounty for those people who stayed to the end, statutory redundancy plus an ex-gratia payment, counseling and out-placement to help you find a new job. We were kept informed, spoken to as valued employees but, basically, there was to be a phased redundancy for all individuals so that the last person to leave would be the janitor as he locked the doors and turned off the lights.
The call came when I was in the car in Milton Keynes (and it's not been my favorite place since). MD's office tomorrow please. And it was the end but..the letter was handed to me gently, the position explained, thanks given, "can I help?". Still the same result but humane, respectful and strangely hopeful.
The third time
I saw this coming; well after it happening twice you begin to get a feel for the signs. In this case the MD stopped talking to me for several weeks beforehand and, you know, if the MD stops talking to you it's cause for concern. Over the last few months several others had also gone so it was likely.
Now by this time I had developed the stiff upper lip, the impeturbable you can't shake me attitude, I'll take it as it comes. However inside it isn't like that. There's a conflict between the "for goodness sake get it over with" and the "I'm really nervous, I know what unemployment is like, yes cleaning the toilets would be an acceptable alternative to being a member of the senior management team." At least you're dealing with the same sort of stuff during the day.
His PA committed a sin (and I'll always be grateful). She rang me the night before and told me that IT would happen the following day. I can't tell you how much that advance information helped. I was calm, collected and in control (see The first time for the exact opposite reaction). I could look him in the eyes, which is more than he could with me, and act with restraint and dignity (though if evil thoughts could kill then there would have no more than a small pile of cinders on the floor). And I left the office and I went home and I felt OK. I was in control.
The fourth time
With this sort of luck I'd expect lightening to be striking every time I left the house.
The signs.
The MD stopped talking to me several weeks beforehand.
Meetings were cancelled at short notice.
Projects that were considered mine were handed to others.
A regular trip to Europe was given to someone else.
A chalice full of a greenish steaming liquid was given to me by the MD who urged me to drink deeply and quickly.
We had one of our periodic meetings known to him as a 1-2-1 and to the rest of us as his opportunity to tell us personally how great and good he was whilst fiddling with his Blackberry. A general chat ensued, new owners, different ways of doing things, some jobs at risk.
And that was it. Letter handed to me. Job at risk and let us have a laugh at your pathetic attempts to justify why you should stay in the lifeboat. And I didn't care. Yes, very concerned at unemployment, finding a new job at 52 but when you get to the fourth time you realise that it is a problem that has to be solved. No one has died. Money will be short and it will be worrying but it will be solved.
What doesn't change though is the breaking of the emotional contract you have with an organisation. It is something that I have learned and that is, for me, a universal truth. The moment a company says it no longer wants you then you no longer want them. What was urgent and important no longer is. You begin to see the organisation for what it is and that is very uplifting. Like the story of the Emperor's new clothes the essential daftness of the organisation is revealed.
Technically I am still employed as I write this. The company suddenly realised last week that they had put themselves in a position where I could raise a grievance which might lead to an industrial tribunal. Industrial tribunals are usually heralded by the sounding of sonorous music as companies do not like These Sort Of Things and especially in this case as the MD would be hauled up in front of the Beak to explain his ineptitude. I had noted this but, oddly, decide not to point this out to them. Much underhand scheming has since taken place since, them not me, to avoid this which resulted in a stay of execution.
Tuesday 13 March - four years to the very day since the last redundancy.
Next - so what happens now? Starting to find a new job.
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