'I Got Laid Off & It Hurt Like H.ll'
'I got laid off late last year, and it hurt like Hell.
I'd done 5 years at my last firm (13 years in the industry). I was in a once-successful leveraged finance team (and was good at my job), but the wheels came off over the summer and we were soon sitting around twiddling our thumbs. At first we thought it was rather fun - an enforced rest on full pay while the market corrected itself. We couldn't believe it would be long before our (mostly) private equity clients came back and we were able to feed the beast again and make loads of money. As the weeks passed, however, it became clear that, unlike 1998, these problems wouldn't be over in a matter of weeks. What we were seeing was a major adjustment in the markets - one that would have profound consequences for homeowners and members of the general public, investors, clients, our firm and, in the end, ourselves.
In the run-up to bonuses, there were all sorts of rumours that there'd be a culling of staff - some unlucky folks would get stiffed and be shown the doors before they bagged their 2007 bonus. We joked about it, but in truth we were all concerned that we were going to be one of those 'folks'. That morning in late November there was a nervous energy in the air. You could feel that something was up. I wasn't the first one in my team to be called in, so I'd had a bit of time to get my head round the fact that I might be one of the 'chosen'. Even so, when the call did come, I still couldn't quite believe it. The elevator ride up to one of the rooms generally used to entertain clients or outside guests seem interminable. Inside, my stomach was in knots. I wanted to be sick. At that moment, I didn't feel anger (that came later). I just felt embarrassed. I felt a failure, as I wondered how I would explain all this to my parents, my friends and other folks I knew in the industry.
Someone from Human Resources was there to greet me as I exited the lift. She showed me into a room where my boss and some other person I didn't know were waiting. This was perhaps the most awkward moment. My boss was clearly nervous, and he certainly wasn't having much fun. He was clearing out a team that he'd built over the years (and he got the boot himself just a week later). Eye contact was minimal. We were both red in the face. 'I'm sorry, Tony.......'. He then trailed off. The more composed woman next to him (she also turned out to be from HR) then took over. Although I seem to remember that she started to tell me what the procedure was, it all soon became a blur. I remember being given some documents and was then literally shown the door. Outside to greet me was a member of the firm's security staff. He had my jacket and brief case, which he gave me before escorting me from the building. My personal effects would arrive a few days later by courier. It was all over in 18 minutes - 18 minutes from the time the phone rang 'til I was outside the building looking up at the floor where I used to work.
I went home and cried, convinced that I was a failure, and that I'd let everyone, including myself, down. It was a couple of weeks before I pulled myself together enough to meet up with some of my ex-colleagues (some of whom were still in a job). That was actually a turning point. I realised that there were some really good people that got laid off when I was let go. It wasn't personal. It was the market, stupid. But it still hurt like Hell.
Anyway, Christmas came and went and soon January was consigned to history too. The markets were in utter turmoil as several firms (including the one I'd just left) revealed massive writedowns and profit falls. Then there was that French trader Jerome Kerviel. I met with a few recruitment consultants over this period, but couldn't get an interview for a new job for love nor money. No-one seemed to be hiring. The credit crunch had certainly put-paid to my immediate job prospects. It was some time in early March (by which time I'd be out of work for over 3 months) that I began to realise that I was flogging a dead horse. Although only in my mid-thirties, I had to come to terms with the fact that my days in investment banking were probably over. I needed to find something else to do. I had to use those transferable skills I'd acquired over the years and put them to good use in another environment.
It's now early April, and I'm still no further forward. But I've come to terms with my new situation (I have some money, so I'm not in dire straits). I've started to look for new opportunities out of sector, and have had a couple of interviews at corporates. The pay isn't ever going to be as good, but there's likely to be a better quality of life. It's only now that I've been out for several months that I can see how working in the City changed me. I became obsessed with doing deals, winning mandates and earning big bonuses. Life had lost its perspective. And although I have a long way still to go in my own personal journey, I'm actually now glad that I'm out of the industry. Gone are the long hours, continuous stress and the dreadful energy-sapping office politics. As usual with things like redundancy, the fear of it is actually worse than the reality. Believe me, life doesn't stop when you lose your job. If you're lucky, and have the right positive mental attitude, it can actually be a new beginning!'.
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