The official email went out today. I and all my other colleagues in the UK are now under consultation, which is the British legalese word for “you might get laid-off.” It wasn’t a surprise. Job cuts were announced earlier in the year by the CEO in a dreary speech from the incongruous location of a stage in the Odeon Cinema. It was one of those speeches were reorganization masquerades as strategy.
The fact that everyone is in the same boat is not helping me take it less personally. I am trying to find solace in the fact that it’s a darn sight nicer than the same process in the US. I remember when my project team was “restructured” at my last job in L.A. Everyone was sequestered in a giant conference room then sent out one at a time to meet with the boss. I made the cut but my colleague, H., wasn’t so lucky. Upon being told to leave the building, she asked to go retrieve her purse from her desk. There was no need. While she was being told her fate, a security guard had collected her personal belongings and would you reunite her with them in the lobby.
One thought that has come to mind a little too readily is that pregnancy seems a daft option in light of all this. After all, employers in this country are not known for taking on waddling types of my age group and gender.