In just over three weeks’ time, I will be officially unemployed. Again.
My first experience of ‘funemployment’ (previously discussed here) began when I was unceremoniously flung out into the big wide world after graduating from university. To say that I didn’t enjoy the experience would be a humongous understatement, but I have to acknowledge that there was still a certain amount of novelty softening the blow. Once I’d overcome the initial sensations of utter bewilderment, purposelessness and fear, I gradually started to enjoy myself. As I began to discover the things that would eventually fill the cavernous, gaping expanse that education had left in my life, I found that I was relishing my newly found freedom and independence. Although my existence was suddenly pretty much void of all sources of intellectual fulfilment, I realised that actually, I didn’t care.
This time however, I’m not so lucky. Over the past six months I’ve learned what it’s like to both have a job, and not to have one, and I can definitively say that as far as my life choices are concerned, I very much prefer the former. When you’re used to earning money and having a reason to get out of bed in the morning that doesn’t involve daytime T.V. and excessive napping, ‘funemployment’ isn’t so ‘fun’ anymore.
Obviously a full-time job does have its drawbacks, that goes without saying. But it’s all a question of balance. I don’t enjoy the early morning commute, I can’t say I like having to rely on the absolute catastrophe that calls itself a railway network, and I would definitely rather be travelling the world than spending my weekdays cooped up in an office, but financial necessity, social protocol and if I’m honest, my own sense of self worth, dictate that (right now at least) this is exactly what I must do. As I prepare to disappear off into the ether, my current place of work are, I’m told, doing everything they possibly can to assist me during what they’ve termed this ‘time of upheaval and emotional stress’. Last week, I even had to attend a meeting to discuss how I was dealing with the prospect of my impending state of joblessness. During what turned out to be a brief and incredibly awkward exchange between myself and a member of staff whom I’d never seen before in my life, I was asked the following question: ‘Do you understand that as of the 31st March 2014, you will no longer be employed by this company?’
Of all the questions I could have been asked, I wasn’t expecting that. I must have looked confused, because without waiting for an answer, he continued:
‘You know that because we are terminating your contract, you won’t be able to come into work anymore?’
Suddenly, I understood what was going on. No one had told him that I’d actually arranged to leave. He thought he was supposed to fire me. How awkward.
If the meaning of this post were to be conveyed through the medium of Twitter, it would read: #theawkwardmomentwhenyouremployertriestofireyouwithoutrealisingthatyouresigned