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‘Your job has gone to one of their people,’ said my line manager, on the telephone from Heathrow Airport. He had just returned from a meeting with the company with which we had merged. Stunned, I was unable to think of anything to say. It was not because of my performance or competence, he continued, but as a result of internal politics; someone on their team had to be kept. He said, of course that I would be looked after. It felt as if this was a giant game of chess, and I was one of the pawns leaving the board early. ‘See you when I get to the office,’ he said, and rang off. I tried to absorb the enormity of the news that I no longer had a job.
I waited until evening to tell my wife, Clare. Having rehearsed saying it a dozen different ways, there didn’t seem to be an easy, shock-free delivery. ‘They’ve given my job to someone else,’ I said, adding quickly ‘but I’ve been told it will be alright, there will be something for me.’ Despite the caveat, I couldn’t help feeling that I had failed. Clare told me not to worry, but I could tell the news had shaken her. Always more practical than me, she would be thinking: what happens if there isn’t another job, when would we know, what would I do, how would we pay the bills?
As uncertainty deepened at work, I became tense and nervous with a continuous ‘butterflies in the stomach’ sensation. My emotions jumped from optimism to despair as opportunities came and went. There existed a pledge that everyone in the organisation would know their situation by a certain date, and as Human Resources Manager, I ensured that this promise was fulfilled for 700 people. The date came and went, and everyone knew if they were to remain employed or to be made redundant, except me. The new person took my role. The team no longer consulted me and, as if to underline my drop in prestige, incoming e-mail messages reduced from a hundred a day to merely half a dozen.
When another job did not emerge I decided to negotiate my own exit. To my surprise, and disappointment, my boss quickly agreed. The letter read ‘we write to confirm with regret that your engagement with the Company will terminate by reason of redundancy’ and seemed to underline the humiliation. In fact, that it took me two days before I showed it to Clare, I was so ashamed.
As events turned out, the news that I was to be made redundant prompted some activity on my behalf and I was offered another job and stayed. But not before experiencing the roller coaster of feelings and consequences that accompany being told you are redundant. There does not seem to be a way to completely avoid this bumpy ride since it relates to how we come to terms with change and loss. But there are strategies that we can adopt to help us through, some of which I mention below.
I feel numb. Losing your job is a shocking experience, like entering a dark tunnel. Even if you were expecting the worst, when it actually happens it takes you by surprise and leaves you breathless. One colleague on hearing her fate said ‘It is like staring into the abyss.’ Behind the shock is loss; of job, and potentially much more: income, security, purpose, routine, and comradeship. As human beings we deal with loss by grieving. This is natural, and the Bible encourages us to express grief for therein lies the beginning of comfort and healing (Matthew 5:4). The cup has to be drunk as a way of coming to terms with the loss. It is good to remember that however dark the tunnel seems, you can be assured that God is with you (Psalm 23).
This isn’t really happening to me. Despite several conversations, John did not think that he would actually leave the organisation. Even on the day he was given his termination notice, he had planned on continuing. This heightened the shock when the fact was confirmed beyond doubt. His denial, successful in postponing unpleasant thoughts for a while, had now made the challenge he was facing harder, and he had lost time in adjusting and preparing to change tack. Finding a way to face the facts helps us eventually to accept them and move on.
What right have they got? I gave everything…Organisations do not always treat people well during job losses. Euphemisms such as ‘We are going to have to let you go’ make it seem as if somehow it’s your choice! Even if a company does have a humane separation process, there still seems a lot to feel angry about. All the work you have put in, the promises made to you about your career, the deal of security for loyalty that you thought you had, implicit obligations that you assumed were mutual, the unfairness of it all. So it’s permissible to be angry, but it’s not good to get stuck there. For most people it is helpful to express it, to get it out of your system by talking to colleagues or your manager, with family or friends. It can help to write it down. Then redirect that energy into activities that will help you handle the challenges you face.
I’m anxious and stressed. Coupled with the loss of a job comes the realisation that your security and that of your family may be under threat. At the same time as dealing with your personal reactions, you may be involved as I was, in making others redundant
Bad News
‘I read somewhere that in breaking bad news you need to get the key facts across in the first few minutes,’ said Roy as we walked towards the building where the men worked.
‘Yes, I agree, that’s what they will be listening for.’ The time had come and we felt unprepared. But we had been thinking about it all day.
‘Do you think I should get into the reasons?’ Roy asked. We were a block away and the wind was cold.
‘Not in detail. I would do the important stuff, then some background so they’ve time to think.’ I was trying to anticipate their reaction, and clear my mind so that I could help.
‘How much do you think they know?’ Roy asked, struggling to hide his concern.
‘I don’t think it’s leaked, but they’re not daft.’ I had picked up some of the gossip. They knew what was going on.
We turned the corner and were outside the building.
‘This is where the rubber hits the road,’ Roy said attempting a wry smile.
I nodded. ‘Up to now it’s been strategy and numbers and cost savings. Now its people.’ We were about to take away the livelihoods of thirty workers and I felt sick. Companies merge, rationalise, downsize; people get hurt.
We entered the control room and it went quiet. Some familiar faces but too many I didn’t recognise and I felt guilty. Nervous glances, a few smiles. We stood on our own at one end. They were in working clothes - boiler suits, jeans, safety shoes - I was glad I had worn a jumper instead of suit and tie.
Roy started and they listened attentively. It was a good delivery. Sincere, and I knew he meant it. Their expressions didn’t change.
‘… and so we have decided to close the plant…’ There, he had said it. Now they knew for sure. It was quiet. One swallowed, another shuffled. A youngster looked across at one of the older men, but he looked away.
I had nodded supportively, played my part in the performance, tried to show we had acted conscientiously, desperate for us not to be cast the villains. Management had done its job. Professional and to the point. Compassionate but firm. Unwavering outside. Inside, crying.
‘When will the plant be closed,’ one of them asked.
Roy told them, making it clear it wouldn’t just end; ‘There will have to be a transition. We’ve got to complete work programmes and move equipment. Probably through to the end of the third quarter.’ Some faces brightened.
‘What if I get a job? Could I go and still get the package?’ asked a middle-aged man, the importance of the issue overcoming his reticence to speak. They were weighing up options, working out what it would mean for them. I would have done the same.
‘Yes, we will be as flexible as we can,’ Roy answered, glad that he could say something they wanted to hear.
‘What about jobs elsewhere in the company?
‘We will be networking all your names,’ I said. ‘Here, and at other sites. But as you know, there are reductions in most of the other areas too.’ I’d given the appropriate answer and I could guess what they were thinking; ‘It’s all right for you, you smoothie.’ I wanted to tell them I didn’t have a job either.
‘Why does our plant have to be the one that goes? We’ve heard they can’t do all the things we can?’ It was the team leader, a young engineer. Until now he had been silent, unobtrusive, watery eyed as he struggled with the brutal facts of industrial merger. Now, without moving he dominated the room. ‘What were the criteria used to decide?’ was his final question, which although softly delivered, landed like a gauntlet thrown down. Two others rallied to the cause, quoting technical details that only the engineers could have told them. It was if they had started to believe they could change the decision and roll back the corporate forces that, like giant magnets, were pulling together these two organisations.
Then the dream ended. A young man with fair hair spoke up. ‘What you’re really saying is that we’ve all lost our jobs, ain’t you?’
Roy winced as the ice-cold wind of reality cut through their denial and our polite euphemisms. ‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s the bad news.’
Your spouse may experience the sense of bereavement as well; sometimes more intensely since he or she may be receiving information second-hand and therefore feel even less in control. It is not surprising that times of redundancy produce anxiety and stress. Regular exercise, a balanced diet and sufficient sleep can help. It is often a relief to share what concerns you and acknowledge your emotions rather than bottling them up. God does not promise to make your problems disappear but he does offer to help you through them; as you give yourself to him, the burden of worry is shared and there is some rest in the midst of troubled times (Matthew 11:28-30). It is also worth noting that while security is usually provided through work, this is not the whole story. Even when the means of security is removed, God as its source remains.
I no longer feel good about myself. Your view of yourself can tumble and you realise quite how much of your existence is dependant your job. And when you lose your self-esteem, your confidence falls and you feel worthless, reasoning that you must be if the company can do without you. Being made redundant highlights just how much we define ourselves by our work. This is understandable since work is an important aspect of life in which we use our skills to provide for our families, find fulfilment and serve others (and ultimately, God). However we need to remind ourselves that our underlying self-esteem is not based on what we do at work but on who we are as a persons created in God’s image, “precious and honoured” and loved by him (Isaiah 43:4).
It’s the not knowing that’s the real killer. Times of redundancy are usually characterised by uncertainty: what’s going on, who will be affected, when will it happen, what lies beyond? You cannot eradicate uncertainty, but you can grasp what certainties there are (company information, dates, job opportunities), as well as create some certainties of your own by starting a job search, writing your CV, and planning ahead, at least in the short term. Our trust in God who is in overall control (Proverbs 19:21) helps us to do this as we seek to place our plan within his ‘master plan’. As he reassured the despondent Jewish exiles; “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11).
I can feel myself sliding downwards. A drop in morale is a normal reaction to such a major life-change as we respond to the losses involved. It can lead to depression, or even despair, especially if unemployment continues. Then you can feel utterly demoralised and hopeless. Seeking the support of family and friends is crucial at times like this; people who are ready to listen, can help you talk things through, and who encourage you to face up to your feelings. The Bible writers are refreshingly honest when it comes to stating how they feel. For one of the psalmists, it was as if God had left him; “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). But of course God hadn’t; he is there with us in every situation and encourages us to push again on the door of hope.
I don’t feel I have anything to offer. Redundancy, particularly if followed by a period out of work can make you feel useless, as one friend put it ‘I’m past my sell-by date’. It is as if your skills are no longer of account, since the things you can do are not required. However, it’s a fact that many of our skills can be transferred to other spheres, updated, or reshaped for new roles. We may have skills from the past that we can pick up again or refresh. And it is never too late to learn new skills; many people are finding that in the fast changing world of work, it is necessary to be continually learning, not only at times of job change. So review your skills, see what can be transferred, or what new things can be learnt. And be open – investigate areas that interest you, get advice from those you trust, listen to what God is saying - this may be the opportunity to take that step towards a new career…
I’m turning the corner. For most people there comes a point when they feel that they have come through the worst, and can begin to look forward rather than backwards. It may have been prompted by finally letting go of the old job and company, or by the pull of a new opportunity. You have accepted what has happened, and are taking control of your own affairs again. You have come to terms with what is lost, and are now able to start to feel positive about what is next. You are emerging from the tunnel, able again to face the future.
Redundancy can be like a journey through a dark and difficult tunnel, but there is a way through to what lies beyond. I offer these thoughts hoping that you will find your best path.
For a devotional aid on redundancy see
A Way Forward: Coping with Redundancy, by Peter Curran
CWR Farnham, 1995, ISBN: 1-85345-094-4
All the Hours God Sends? By Peter Curran
Practical and Biblical Help in Meeting the Demands of Work, IVP Leicester, 2000, ISBN: 0-85111-656-6
© 2005 Peter Curran