Personal experience of Recession UK, episode four: Its official: I am Redundancy Proof!
"By this time tomorrow I shall have gained a peerage...or Westminster Abbey". - Lord Nelson.
I need to think of a superhero name for myself. For this week it has become apparent that I am Redundancy Proof. Yes despite my best efforts to free myself from my job, it would appear that the firm I work for simply cannot bear the thought of losing me. Quite why I have absolutely no idea.
A couple of years ago while I was embroiled in the all-out nuclear war of arguments with the management imbeciles (the English ones that is, the Americans that occupy the highest levels of influence are actually nice fellas) and when the firm was busy, it seemed they couldn't wait to get shot of me. Now in the middle of a financial apocalypse and with the company nowhere near as busy as it was last year, all the signs are that they want to keep ahold of me at all costs! I even offered to go a few weeks back but was instantly knocked back by the first tier of middle-management cretins. I gave them the equivalent of an open goal. I laid them off a perfectly weighted through-ball and they were clean through. But they somehow missed the target completely.
So here am I. Doing dramtically less work than I was a couple of months ago, scratching around for something to do most days. And holder of what is surely The Safest Job In England. The irony of this whole situation is quite remarkable. The much-maligned figure (at least by some of the suits) who just wouldn't get tired of telling the firm to go fuck themselves just a few short months ago is now the reluctant top geezer. Who'd-a thunk it?
Hold on...I just had a chilling thought. Maybe they're like besotted with me in a weird reverse-Florence Nightingale effect type thing? If they really are that bonkers there's only one thing for it...Nurse! The screens!
Peace be upon you,
Sir_Red_Joe.