THE 'C' WORD

And so it begins.  The dreaded ‘C’ word has been mentioned at work.  I’m not referring to Covid which does start with the letter ‘C’ or for those of you out there with gutter minds, this ‘C’ word is not associated with one of countless lewd-phemisms used to describe female private parts.  Fun as it might be to try and list these it would take up far too much time and blog space.  No, the ‘C’ word in question is ‘Consultation’, the process at work which usually precedes the appearance of an empty cardboard box on your desk containing your marching orders.

Page 44 - The Times newspaper 20 August 2020

An article printed on page 44 of yesterday’s copy of The Times only confirmed what I guessed would be inevitable especially for anyone working in the charitable sector.  With no physical fundraising taking place and legacy income falling like Newton’s apple, continued employment for charity staff will be nothing more than a mirage at the soon-to-dry-up Furlough Oasis.  If you still have a job at Christmas, it will be the greatest gift of all.

Talking of jobs, let me tell you that bagging one in these post-apocalyptic times is not as easy as waltzing into your local McDonalds to order a double cheeseburger with fries which you can now do at a discount under the Government’s Eat Out to Help Out scheme every Monday to Wednesday.  My recent interview encounter although a positive experience has made me realise that once you are nudging 60, your employment ‘currency’ devalues faster than the Vietnamese Dong. 

Prospective employers will give you all that guff about large numbers of applicants, others having skills that better match the role or that they were specifically looking for someone with experience of trimming elephant toenails (which of course you don’t have) when what they’d really like to say is that you’re far too old.  Yep, one look at your liver spots, wrinkles or pseudo-badger hairdo and in their book you’re on the employment scrapheap. 

Never mind that my organisational skills could plan a Napoleonic campaign or that my financial wizardry rivals that of Bernie Madoff.  Nope, as far as their pre-prejudiced notions go, a person of my maturity is bound to work slowly, spend all their time off sick or is just biding their time to retirement.  True?  Or is jaded cynicism clouding my judgement at being rejected for the job?  If I’m honest, it’s probably the latter. 

Oh well, their loss not mine.  I guess I’m lucky to still have a job (for now) and as I’m currently being paid 80% of my wages to do nothing then I’m in a better position than a lot of other people out there.  More time to blog.  Now where do I sign up for an elephant toenail trimming course?