In January 2009 I found myself in unfamiliar territory.  For the first time in over twenty years I was out of work, with no prospect of immediately stepping into another role.  The experience came with a mixed bag of emotions, most of which were predictable, but one which surprised me: excitement.

My working life has been in or around accounting.  I’ve run finance departments, implemented finance systems, and performed most of the roles people associate with bean-counting.  I’ve hired and fired, been head-hunted, and had opportunities for travel.  Suddenly my employers no longer wanted me to count their beans for them (sorry mate, business has been credit crunched – no hard feelings) and I was free to go.

So there I was – mid-forties, mortgage, kids, wife (works part-time) and my only diary entry was a meeting at the Job Centre.  But I was still excited: change beckoned.  I could not put one of ‘management-speak’s more irritating mantra’s out of my head: it’s not a problem, it’s an opportunity.

My head was full of ideas.  For years I’ve cherished the notion of running my own business, but I’ve never had a clear idea of which direction to take this thought.  Anecdotally recession is a great springboard for innovation – but I was still missing that vital spark of the ‘big idea’.  The last thing I want to do (well, almost the last) is to run a small business based on accounting services.

Another idea was to turn my back on the consumerist lifestyle.  Or at last, to glance away from it now and again.  I’m not the sort to buy a small-holding and go all self-sufficient.  I could get one or two local part-time jobs that pay reasonably, and live a simpler, more flexible life.  But there’s still that mortgage, bills to pay and spectre of university for the children.

Having worked my way through these ideas, and spoken with some recruiters and even a couple of prospective employers, time had passed.  The glow of excitement was starting to pale, replaced by frustration and concern.

It’s natural for redundancy to bring with it a sense of rejection, even when you know that it was the right decision commercially.  It gets harder when most of those around are still in work, applications are not responded to and the recruiters don’t call.  The children don’t help; if they are to be believed all their friends are going on three holidays this year while we’ve not booked anything.  There’s accusation in their tone – why can’t you get a job?

 Menacing shadows of doubt began to slink around my thoughts.  Was I too old?  Age discrimination legislation is all very well, but no one can read the minds of decision-makers.  Did I make a poor career choice somewhere in the past; should I have tried harder to acquire a particular skill?  Not that there’s much I can do about it now. 

I’ve flirted with lower-paid, less-skilled roles, and I’ve commiserated with a friend who tried the same approach and got the same result – silence, or at best a quietly muttered ‘over-qualified’.

Today I find myself in territory which is still relatively new, but I’m starting to find my way around.  It’s important to maintain a sense of perspective through it all.  A few weeks, even months, without employment presents a short term difficulty but will be barely noticeable over the span of working life.  If we have to do without some treats for a while and live with a little more uncertainty, then so be it.  The essentials of life are still in place and, importantly, no one has died.

And I have to confess that, despite the challenges, I’m still excited by it all.