LIFE ON THE SCRAPHEAP (PART ONE)

It's peculiar, really.

I've had such a negative view on my prospects in life for so long now that, when the axe finally actually (sort of) fell, it didn't really come as any surprise, even though, when it did, it was, quite naturally, actually still one hell of a surprise.

Or is that shock?

My brain is so muddled by all of this that it's sometimes hard for me to tell what I mean any more, let alone explain it to anyone else.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we...?

Things have been a little quiet at work lately.

Too quiet you might think...

(I know I did)

But we had all continued to plod along regardless, assuming that this was just a "lull" and that things would "pick up" once the rumoured "five years since the takeover" negotiations had been completed.

Then, unexpectedly early one morning, m'coll turned up full of tales of faraway meetings that were imminent, and "announcements" that we weren't supposed to know about (but you know how the rumour mill grinds...) and how the likes of us were probably going to be all right, really, because we had a certain value, brand identity, and, you know (as my own thought-proceesses added to the crumbs of positive spin), office space with a longish contract signed...

Nevertheless, almost on cue, m'coll's telephone rings and, going by his responses ("Well, I was..." being an alarming retort to the presumed "Are you alright?") the general consensus was that we were, as the saying goes, well and truly, er, stuffed.

Anyway, once he had hung up, there was little time for discussion as m'other coll's phone then rang, and similar responses were at least muted to our ears by our own doomstruck mutterings between the one of us who was in the know, and myself, the person in the room who is seldom referred to as "The Blind Optimist..."

"Blind Artist" maybe...

As ever, my own sense of lack of self-worth had already convinced myself that they would probably turn out to be all right, but my own prospects were far, far gloomier.

M'other coll's call over, my own phone (Well, the one I have to use...) rang and, with that inevitable sick churning in the guts, I got my own version of the conversation that we each had, including the scripted little speech from HR over the phone (Me being last, well, I'm almost sure that there's nothing sinister in that. It was just alphabetical I presume...) and being told that things remained in a state of flux until we had our "one-on-one" conversations in eight days time; that there "may" be roles for us - remotely - in the brave new world; had it explained that if we accepted another offer (Hah! Fat chance!) in the meantime we would void our potential payouts; and some other stuff that I tried to take in, and then we were all left to wallow and ponder until we all decided that it was useless to sit there brooding and winding each other up, and so, eventually, we all packed up to continue our "work" at home.

My own imminent and long-booked fortnight's annual leave can't have helped my case, I imagined, but in having used it up, this would, of course, mean less actual cash for me to receive in whatever settlement I am left with (in the worst case scenario).

And, oh! What about all the unnecessary expense...? But you can't live your life not doing things on the off-chance that the worst might happen can you? Even if it eventually does, I've spent a heck of a lot of years doing that already and I'm no longer the spring chicken I once was, and regrets are one of the things that we all try not to mention...

And I tried to be pragmatic...

And I tried to remain stoic...

And I tried to be positive...

And I tried to remain upbeat...

And then, as I was heading homewards, I stopped at some traffic lights, and I saw all of these people walking around in the sunshine, all of whom seemed to have a place in the world, and a purpose, and, all of a sudden, I felt that I didn't really have that any more. For a moment I felt utterly overwhelmed with the urge to vomit, and found myself trying to hold back the inevitable wailing and tears of a panic attack, and, as I waited for the lights to change, I suddenly understood how ghastly my life could soon be getting...

Unless it doesn't.

Not that you'll be hearing much about it if the worst does happen; I suddenly realised that "my" phone and most of "my" computer equipment doesn't actually belong to me, which feels very strange and almost too personal a humiliation, and would also tend to make simple things like registering as unemployed or applying for jobs suddenly rather difficult, complicated, and, ultimately, expensive.

I ought not to panic, though; We're not exactly on our uppers. There is at least still A.N. Income coming into the house to cover the bills, and we do have some savings just as long as the economy doesn't find an imminent excuse to go into a tailspin...

Oh...

It's kind of stupid really; I've been sort of expecting this to happen to me for the whole of my professional life, which is one of the reasons that I've seldom dared to take many risks, and yet now that it is, possibly, happening, it's still managed to surprise and dumbfound me...

That day, the day after the anniversary of "D-Day" ironically, I suddenly felt very old, very useless, and very, very sorry for myself (See below).

"Tomorrow," I thought, "I shall quite possibly feel even worse...! But I suppose that we shall just have to wait for and see..."

One of the problems is that, at this moment, I just don't know what's going to happen, and am unlikely to know for quite some time yet, and so I fall into a kind of terrified limbo where I may, or may not, (Like "Schrödinger's Martin"???) have to do something astonishing about it, and all rather urgently, not that I feel that I know what, or even how, to make such things happen in this bewildering modern world at this precise moment.

You see, I am rather lucky in that I've never had to actually deal with anything like this before, and have always felt quite relieved that I haven't, although this does leave you rather ill-equipped to know quite what you ought to actually be doing as you stagger along though this particularly nasty bit of the veil of tears we try to call life.

I did rather go through hoops trying to persuade myself whether it was okay to tell people about this situation, and risk the condemnation and shame of being branded a "Loser". After all, once "The Announcement" is out in the world, the powers that be can hardly expect you not to want to talk about it, can they? Especially in this era that finds so many of us socially interacting all over the internet.

And nobody actually said to keep it a secret, even if, in the end, babbling on about how worried you feel might - but ought not to - affect your own destiny within the cruel,  heartless world of big business.

Anyway, the few people who exist in my tiny - and not especially usefully connected - orbit were very kind, and said very supportive things to me, despite me remaining determined to underscore what a hopeless Loser I always thought that I really was.

I also found that I was so very sleepy all of a sudden, too...

So...

How exactly does a rather antisocial near-as-dammit fifty-two-year-old who has only ever really done one thing go out into the world and make a living...? Especially when the only thing he really knows anything about is in a sector of the world of business that thrives upon youth and enthusiasm...?

This, I fear, is likely to become an increasing concern as the weeks pass...

Meanwhile, the first of July marks it being thirty years to the day since I left college for the final time, a day, incidentally, that I don't really think that I ever got over. Strangely, of course, the life that I was already mourning for on that day had already ceased to exist due to the fact that the people who made that time so very special had already faded away from it forever, too.

And, of course, that was also the last time that I got kicked blinking and hopelessly overwhelmed by the great big scary world outside my bubble, and that time it took me eighteen months to finally persuade somebody, at the third time of asking, that I might be worth taking a chance on. Back then, however, I could live at home with my remaining parent to vent at, whereas now I have responsibilities and commitments and all sorts of other things to get utterly terrified about buggering up.

I am not, it would seem, someone that is all easy to figure out, or like, despite the fact that I sometimes thing that I'm the simplest single-celled, spineless amoeba that there is, and do have a tendency to self-destruct at the first opportunity, especially in a situation where I have to talk about myself or, God help us, try to impress...

Honestly, inside my head, it feels like I'm wearing the Mark of Cain, or am suddenly so very toxic that people fear to come near me; "Typhoid Martin, the scummiest failure known to humanity be thy name, boy!!!" I hear them cry...

And, at this moment, I can hardly fail to agree...