It was a shock.
Three months before the birthday I’d least been looking forward to, I was made redundant. To put it in perspective, I and 199 other staff were made redundant. See, I wasn’t even that special…
I’d often joked about dreading turning 50. How, as a woman, I feared that once we turn 50 we become invisible. We cease to be seen as interesting or sexual, everything is heading south, and we are considered background noise.
I had joked about it, but now I was increasingly concerned that it might actually be true.
I didn’t handle the redundancy news well. I pretty much secured myself zero chance of getting any realigned role with that company, but the reality is I still needed to work. I was so utterly convinced that I would secure something brighter and shinier and “I would show them.” It would be their loss.
And now, 19 days away from finishing up, I just received my 492nd rejection—or thereabouts. What’s more, COVID-19 had hit and now the employment market was saturated with extensive competition.
It had all turned to custard and no one was going to fix things for me. Seems 50 is truly the age to adult.
So I decided to make a list. I like lists. Mostly, I like writing things on my list that I’ve already done so that I can then at least cross those off. After all, I’m an achiever.
>> Shave bits that haven’t be shaved in several months
>> Cook something nutritious, not out of a tin
Don’t drink wine
>> Drink red wine, full of good antioxidants
>> Redo C.V.
>> Search jobs
It’s a weak list, but maybe tomorrow I will do better.