Category Archives: Work and Studying

Oct 22 2012
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Work and Studying

Get Lost

Go AwayAnd so it has come to pass. I went to work this morning and was called in to the boardroom (after I had made everyone cups of coffee, natch).

Both bosses and little old me. I was told my job was no longer tenable and it was for my own good that I should leave. Bear with me on this one.

I was sacked for two reasons:

First, my job is not viable any more. Thanks largely to being stealthily stripped of my duties over the last year, so I agree with them on that point. Second, my ‘health problems’ mean I can no longer work at the office. What if I were to trip? What if I am too tired one day?

I know this is highly illegal. I know I should fight. And I did, kind of. I asked to be allowed to stay for two months, until I found another job and to see me over Christmas. They will let me know their decision in a day or so. One boss seemed stunned that I couldn’t just go ‘straight onto benefits’ and even suggested the time I would now have on my hands would be a positive thing for me. A bit of space. He obviously lives in Daily Mail world where all disabled people on benefits sit back and coin it in.

I pointed out several times that I should have been offered the chance to bring a representative with me, especially as they are sacking me primarily on grounds of health and they had obviously had the whole weekend to construct a dismissal plan. Gratifyingly, this seemed to alarm them, but it’s cold comfort.

I am still waiting to hear back from my last job interview – hoping to get lucky. But for now, I’m going to take my big box of tissues, a family-sized bar of chocolate and a bottle of red wine, sit on the sofa and cry my eyes out.

(if this is your first visit to my blog – check out ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ post from last week – it’ll explain the background to this sorry tale).

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Oct 17 2012
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Work and Studying

Stockholm Syndrome

bullying in workplaceThe end could be in sight – I had a second, very successful job interview yesterday and I can almost taste freedom. For my sanity, I need to get out of my current job.

Until recently, I had never experienced workplace bullying. When I informed my colleagues about my MS, I didn’t expect kid glove treatment or special measures, just a little understanding. I was completely unprepared for what happened next.

Bit by bit my duties were stripped from me. I was told that I could no longer drive for work, cutting me off from a large percentage of what my job actually entails. I was studiously ignored and excluded, most of my projects were shelved and backs were literally turned. Schoolgirl sniggers might sound harmless , but when executed effectively, they can be brutal.

In the blink of a diagnosis, I have been branded worthless, a waste of company resources and deemed less intelligent than before. Yet the only tangible change is that I chose to reduce my working hours (due to extreme fatigue), so that when I was in work, I could be as effective, if not more, than before.

What angers me most though, is that their callous and cruel actions have robbed me of the mental clarity needed to adjust to my diagnosis. I have been fighting a war on two fronts and it is clear they are hoping to make my life so unbearable that I will have no choice but to leave.

So why, on the threshold of a brighter future, do I feel nostalgic? Have I come to love my tormentors as a way of coping with the ongoing ordeal? I think I have had to believe that deep down, they are decent people, in order to force myself out of the house each morning. Or perhaps it is just sadness, for never being allowed to reach my full potential.

In the meantime, as I wait for good news, I will cheer myself up by reading our company policy on ‘Bullying and Harassment in the Workplace’. It’s by far the best work of fiction I have read in a long time…

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Oct 06 2012
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Work and Studying

Interview nerves

Is it just me or are job interviews like blind dates? You need to make a dazzling impression in 3 seconds flat, you spend ages on your outfit and you practice your witty laugh and come-back comments in the mirror. I had an interview yesterday and I always reckon Friday interviews are a good bet – everyone’s looking forward to the weekend and we can just kick back and chill. Wouldn’t you know though, it was a job I applied for and promptly forgot about as I was only asked to submit my CV and a covering email. Yet I can spend hours and hours on carefully-crafted, 10-page long personal statements and not hear a peep.

I took an inordinate amount of time selecting a suitable outfit, painstakingly applied make-up so that it looked like I wasn’t wearing any, teased my unruly hair into bouncy waves and applied perfume very liberally. I read up on the company, memorised facts and wrote a few tiny crib notes on my wrist, carefully hidden under my watch. Unfortunately, as this whole process took over two hours, I downed gallons of coffee to steady my nerves. By the time I left the house, every nerve was buzzing, but, hey, I was on form, I was flying.

At the reception desk, a jaded receptionist slapped a very large ID sticker on my coat and commanded me to sit and wait until I was ‘collected’. I was then lead to the most open-plan office ever designed where the workers were handing round birthday cake, casting sad little glances in my direction,  as I huddled in the tiny corner sitting-area.

Finally I was called in to The Panel and an hour (an hour!) later, I was led back to the lift and sent on my way. I won’t be cracking open the Champagne just yet, but I think I have a good chance. If I am successful I get called back for a second, then a third interview, gulp. Wish me luck and watch this space…

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Oct 03 2012
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Work and Studying

Job centre blues

After burrowing around in the murky depths of disability and work legislation, I have now been assigned a Disability Employment Advisor and on Monday I went to visit her at the local Job Centre. To cut a very long, sorry saga short, I have been bullied quite badly at work ever since my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis was confirmed and I need to find a new job. Pronto. Can you believe this is still happening in 2012?

Anyway, I’m told to bring my CV and turn up at 11.20 sharp. I arrive early and am met by two doormen. Bouncers? Honestly, they stand there in dark suits, look me up and down with raised eyebrows and I’m half expecting them to say ‘sorry love, you can’t come in here looking like that’. I’m on the list though, so I’m in.

I’m directed into a vast, bland, utterly depressing room with splashes of green logo and dotted with a bewildering array of prams, shopping bags and people slumped on the sofas. Other people are hunched over large ‘job generating machines’, pressing and clicking buttons like they’re playing one-armed bandits in a pub. I pick my way through the crowd, perch on the edge of a dingy sofa and wait. And wait. The staff call people up to desks, looking bored out their skulls (well, they already have jobs) and still I wait, my CV wilting in my sweaty hand.

Finally, I’m called. We run through the ways MS can get in the way of working, my skills, my career aspirations and which hours I can work. My advisor then turns the computer screen round so I can see it. Two possible jobs. Cleaning and daytime pizza delivery. Huh?

She tells me I am over-qualified for most of the jobs they have, but due to my reduced working hours, childcare issues and disability, that’s all they have. I thank her, walk unsteadily to the door with as much dignity as I can and leave it all behind. On second thoughts, I go back, slip past the bouncers and yank a ‘How Did We Do?’ form from the front desk.

On it I write Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here, shove it in the box and go.

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Oct 02 2012
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Work and Studying

Back to school

It’s Autumn, it’s night class season and I’m ready. Tonight will be my third week back at school. I spent hours carefully selecting a new course, paid my money and filled a trolley at Staples. New notebooks, new pencil case, lots of pens, paper clips, highlighters, folders but managed to stop myself from buying a Hello Kitty school bag to put it all in.

I have a chequered history of night classes. A couple of years ago it was knitting, in a bid to join a Stitch and Bitch class in the local cafe. In my fourth lesson, the lovely teacher looked at my homework, sighed and shook her head sadly. Last year I tried a one-day course instead, learning how to make my very own Christmas wreath out of locally-source willow branches. Along with ten other eager beavers, I grabbed six foot lengths of the stuff, ready to bend it into a circle but ended up poking a rather serious-looking woman in the eye. My finished wreath was a square of twigs, held together by an awful lot of thread and withered on my door after only a week.

This year will be different. I have moved on from crafts and have chosen something scarily academic – a new language. Which is kind of ironic, as my first major relapse involved me losing the ability to string a sentence together (The Teenager still does a great impression of me). Ever the optimist though, I am determined to master it. So far, I can tell native speakers that I enjoy coffee and swimming and hockey (!), and there’s still 28 weeks to go.

I am a bit of a swot, always keen to get my homework done and learn new words, and have got into the habit of sitting in the car during The Teenager’s rugby training listening to a downloaded course. Note to self though – must get out the habit of sticking my hand up in class. There’s only four of us, I am in my thirties and the teacher is probably younger than me.

The best bit though, is that there is a Starbucks on site, so I can sit for a while before class, supping on a large double-shot Americano, checking over my notes and polishing an apple for the teacher.

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