Today I lost my day job.

If I’m honest, it was not a huge shocker. I had worked there since last year and it had been a bit of a change in career direction but the last couple of months I’d felt a lot like I was drowning with no rubber ring at hand. Still when one of management asked if i’d ‘’got a minute’’ and invited me into another room it felt inevitable and also a gut punch.

That was a few hours ago. Since then there have been a few tears, most of them when I walked through my front door to be met by my partner with a hug and an ‘’it’s all okay, babe’’.

His utter, unconditional support and downright bloody loveliness about a situation that screws up our immediate plans was the killer. I wouldn’t blame him at all for being livid with me. And I’d love to say I would be exactly that sweet and caring right now. I’d love to but… I’m not sure.

And then, as is the gay way, after a lot more tears (Mine) and even more words of support (His), he took me to the corner shop and bought junk food and a very big bottle of vodka. It’s unopened in the fridge right now. But let’s be honest; that will not remain the case for very long.

My poor, darling man… He blames himself. We got together at Christmas and then moved in together and got engaged roughly five minutes later. More tsunami than whirlwind romance. So yes, maybe I have been less than focussed at work due to the sheer size of life changes in such a short time. But I’m an adult, I make my own choices. And one of them is the amount of work I actually do at work. Like I say, the abrupt interruption in what I will charitably call a career was not exactly a bombshell out of nowhere.

I saw the storm clouds rolling in but still went out without an umbrella.

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So sat on my sofa on the afternoon I have become, hopefully, temporarily unemployed I admit I am terrified. This is even before the paranoia at the bottom of the corner shop vodka has kicked in. I read the newspapers on he weekend about how the new Tory government and the welfare cuts to come will make life tougher for many. Potentially that includes me.

I’m a middle aged poof, with a patchy career history. My age and a CV that is less than dazzling makes this start of a new chapter seem like one case of Picking Myself and Dusting Myself Down too many.

It’s not that I’m proud or picky but getting to 5pm in a job that pays reasonably okay… Well, at this point winning the big one on the Lottery seems shorter odds.

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Anyway, enough self pity for now. Tomorrow is a new day and all that crap… And I have employment agencies to pester and try to spin this latest hiccup into something vaguely positive. That will be stretch.

However for now, there is a bottle of vodka in the fridge and a supportive partner to share it with. It may seem bleak. It could be worse.

About the author: Richard Glen
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