B
Bullitt
Guest
In mid December I was struck down with a rather nasty chest infection. So bad in fact that I was unable to move out of bed for 4 days. Luckily things such as needing the toilet wasn't a problem as I didn't eat or drink a thing for over a week. Losing a stone and a half in that short period of time is an alarming experience. Standing for a few minutes in the shower every day wasn't easy either. Then, to cap it all off, when I was finally able to struggle to get back up to Leicester and work again, within 3 hours of resuming my job I was sent home again as I clearly looked ill and the boss (rightly) felt I still wasn't in any condition to be back at my place of employment. One trip to the doctor and I'm signed off for a further 10 days. Bummer.
To cap it all off, the day before I'm due to go back (which was only a week before Christmas) I find a letter drop through the door. Cost savings mean my services are no longer required as the dreaded redundancy occurs. Last in, first out.
Let's rewind here a moment. In my old job I was happily bumbling along in the regular routine of… Regular. The job was easy, I did it, got paid just under enough to live and carried on as normal. Then out of the blue I get approached by the new company and offered the position. It was quite a journey every day, a 60 mile round trip, but the pay-rise was worth it. With the increased pay, I would even have enough to maybe take the cheating pain-in-my-arse away for a holiday, or so I thought. So I went for it.
Recession hits, business decreases, I'm out and on the dole. Fun fun fun.
What next? Well, nobody employs anybody just before Christmas. Especially the week before Christmas – trust me, it's virtually impossible. So I had to wait into January before I could properly start Job hunting. 3 weeks of sitting around. Waiting. Wondering.
"Will anything come along?"
"Can I afford to survive until I get something?"
"What if I can't?"
Contrary to popular belief, being unemployed isn't just about sitting there with the Xbox or PlayStation collecting giros. At least, not when you want the work… We're talking 7am until 9pm every day surfing the internet job sites, calling agencies, approaching companies and putting your name about. It's hard work. And, when there sod all chance of any business taking anybody on, it's soul destroying.
I've literally travelled the length and breadth of the country looking for work… North Derbyshire, South Cambridgeshire, Cardiff, Birmingham and beyond. Always nearly, never quite because the work simply isn't there.
It's times like these when you realise who your mates are and when they're there for you. And thank God for them – without somebody saying "come out, I'll buy you a pint" or "come over for dinner" once in a while, life would be really depressing when you're in this state. It's not helped when you have by weekly visits to the job centre. I won't comment here on who is a what, but to see so many miserable faces in one room, most more then likely thinking the same thing, it's no wonder the give up mindset can become ingrained.
Trust me, you never want to be unemployed. An easy ride it isn't, no matter what the arseholes brigade may say.
Still, with any luck I may find myself with a job offer tomorrow. And even if not, I'll keep on plugging away.
Now where's that whickey bottle...
To cap it all off, the day before I'm due to go back (which was only a week before Christmas) I find a letter drop through the door. Cost savings mean my services are no longer required as the dreaded redundancy occurs. Last in, first out.
Let's rewind here a moment. In my old job I was happily bumbling along in the regular routine of… Regular. The job was easy, I did it, got paid just under enough to live and carried on as normal. Then out of the blue I get approached by the new company and offered the position. It was quite a journey every day, a 60 mile round trip, but the pay-rise was worth it. With the increased pay, I would even have enough to maybe take the cheating pain-in-my-arse away for a holiday, or so I thought. So I went for it.
Recession hits, business decreases, I'm out and on the dole. Fun fun fun.
What next? Well, nobody employs anybody just before Christmas. Especially the week before Christmas – trust me, it's virtually impossible. So I had to wait into January before I could properly start Job hunting. 3 weeks of sitting around. Waiting. Wondering.
"Will anything come along?"
"Can I afford to survive until I get something?"
"What if I can't?"
Contrary to popular belief, being unemployed isn't just about sitting there with the Xbox or PlayStation collecting giros. At least, not when you want the work… We're talking 7am until 9pm every day surfing the internet job sites, calling agencies, approaching companies and putting your name about. It's hard work. And, when there sod all chance of any business taking anybody on, it's soul destroying.
I've literally travelled the length and breadth of the country looking for work… North Derbyshire, South Cambridgeshire, Cardiff, Birmingham and beyond. Always nearly, never quite because the work simply isn't there.
It's times like these when you realise who your mates are and when they're there for you. And thank God for them – without somebody saying "come out, I'll buy you a pint" or "come over for dinner" once in a while, life would be really depressing when you're in this state. It's not helped when you have by weekly visits to the job centre. I won't comment here on who is a what, but to see so many miserable faces in one room, most more then likely thinking the same thing, it's no wonder the give up mindset can become ingrained.
Trust me, you never want to be unemployed. An easy ride it isn't, no matter what the arseholes brigade may say.
Still, with any luck I may find myself with a job offer tomorrow. And even if not, I'll keep on plugging away.
Now where's that whickey bottle...
