A job for life, not just for Halloween : pixeldiva

I moved to London with high hopes.

I had plans.

I knew what I wanted to do.

I was going to do freelance web design.

I had a plan, but we all know what happens to plans, don't we?

In around November 2000, D tired of the lack of opportunity in the West of Scotland and began making plans to move south. Wheelchair bound and on extended sick leave from my secretarial job at the time, I knew I couldn't follow quite yet, but began thinking of options.

In the course of this thinking, a friend of mine mentioned that another friend of his was working for a company who were looking for a web designer, and was I interested? Of course I was, but I was also nervous. How would they deal with an employee who was in a wheelchair?

In the end, I didn't give them the option. My stubborn streak widened by a mile and I nearly killed myself going to the interview on my crutches. I got the job and started shortly afterwards. Let me tell you, the satisfaction of telling my previous employers (to whom the phrase "reasonable adjustment" meant demoting me to my previous position of receptionist and sticking me out in the reception area behind a big desk that would hide the wheelchair) that I was leaving for a better job is something I will never forget.

Fast-forward a few months, and the new job, my dream job, wasn't quite such a dream, in fact, it was more like a nightmare. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

By this time D was safely installed in London, and I was once more making plans. I'd move to London, and do freelance web design. Maybe get a job in an agency.

Then the first bombshell hit. My dad was diagnosed with cancer.

I was torn. Stay or go.

Stay or go.

I didn't know what to do.

So I decided to stay. To continue with the nightmare job, but that the nightmare job would be my last job in Scotland, and, after long conversations with my dad on the subject, I would look for a proper job in London, and if something appropriate should come along, I should go for it.

So I stayed.

Then the second bombshell hit. The people in charge of the company were chronically incompetent and redundancies were necessary.

I got the phone call the day before my birthday. I was off work with a work related stress migraine, and my boss called me to ask if I could come in because he really needed to talk to me.

I knew it was bad when I logged on to AIM and none of my colleagues would tell me what he wanted to talk to me about.

Four weeks later, after much soul searching, the vast majority of my worldly possessions were crammed into the back of a van and hurtling down the M1 towards London, and a new life.

I was going to be a web designer. On hearing that I was leaving and moving to London, a couple of our London based clients expressed an interest in my providing them with web design and related services. I was fairly confident that I'd find enough work to keep things going.

Only, I didn't take into account two things:

1) clients can be cheap, lying bastards.
2) the impact of 9/11 on the job market, both in the US and the UK.

In retrospect, I really shouldn't have been surprised when bombshell #3 hit.

One month after I moved to London, D was given three months notice of redundancy.

So, faced with the very real prospect of being unable to eat or pay rent, I decided that I had to get a job. Even a temp secretarial job would be better than nothing.

So next morning, at 9 am, I took my plans in both hands, ripped them up and phoned Office Angels. Ten minutes later, after talking about my skills and experience, I was in the shower, getting ready for an interview at the agency arranged for 12 noon.

At 2.30 I found myself in the reception of a building, being handed a job description and having ten minutes to prepare for an interview. The recruitment consultant had looked through her book of jobs, and, on seeing this particular one, had called the organisation to suggest that they interview me, despite the fact that they were already interviewing three other candidates for the post that very day.

Exactly a week later and I was back for a second interview, to meet the man who's PA I would be, if appointed.

We got on incredibly well from the start. It just clicked. I left 45 minutes later with a good feeling. An hour later, just after I got home, the phone rang. It was him, offering me the job.

The next morning, 31 October 2001, at 10 am. I started my new job as PA to the Head of Personnel.

My first six months were bumpy, to say the least. Quite apart from having to adjust to a new life in a new city, my dad's health was a constant worry. It would have been very easy, particularly during that six month probationary period, for my boss to say "thanks, but it's just not working out", and he'd have been perfectly within the law to do so.

He didn't though.

I'll never forget sitting in his office in my first week, talking things over and him saying to me "if you get a call and you need to go and be with your family, just go. Call me and let me know what's happening at some point, when you can. Just do it and don't worry about me, or about the office, or about your job. Your family is more important.".

The support and care I got, particularly during those first six months, as my dad's health declined more rapidly than we had expected was above and beyond anything I could have expected.

For the first time in my life, I actually felt truly valued in a job. I was never treated as "just a secretary". I was encouraged to grow into the role, to take on new duties.

Nineteen months later, when the vacancy for my current job came up, making the decision to apply for it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I actually cried when I told him that I wanted to apply for the job, but he didn't make me feel bad, or try to persuade me to stay in the job. Instead he was positive, and although disappointed that we wouldn't be working together if I got the job, gave me his full support. I cried again when I got the job, and again at my "leaving" party, because he was so genuinely pleased for me, and took an almost fatherly pride that I was moving on to something new which would be challenging and possibly provide a career path into an area I was passionately interested in.

Ironically, my new desk was about 30 yards away, and actually closer to his office than I'd been the whole time I was working with him. In fact, rather than having the option to go past his office or not, I now had to walk past his office to get to my desk.

He continued to keep an eye on me, never missing an opportunity to compliment me whenever I changed my hair colour (on average, every three weeks). If I was out of the office for more than a day, he would always check I was ok. If I worked late, he'd gently scold me and caution against working too hard. He'd enquire about my family, and give me updates on his. He'd ask small favours, but email my manager to ask permission, to make sure that she didn't feel like he was abusing his position as my ex-boss.

I was really quite disappointed to hear that his office was going to be moved to the other side of the building, but had resolved to go round the long way a bit more often, because I knew I'd miss our frequent chats.

Only, he didn't seem to be in his office very much. At all, really. He was a busy man though, and there were restructures and things going on, so I figured he was just out of the office on business.

Only he wasn't. He was off sick. Weeks rolled past, and the information was very thin on the ground. Even my ex-colleagues didn't really know what was happening. Then, at the end of October, almost three years to the day I started, an email came round telling us he was taking early retirement after a period of ill-health.

The office is a different place now he's gone. His cheery smile and gentle idiosyncrasies are conspicuously absent.

He was among the first people I wanted to tell that I'd got the new job. That I'd done it. I'd moved on from working for him with a cautious eye on becoming a Consultant, not really expecting an opportunity to come up at all, never mind so quickly.

I saw him last night, unexpectedly. He'd come into the office take his current PA out to dinner as a thank you for all her support during his illness.

He gave me a hug, and asked how I was getting on, and I was so pleased to be able to tell him about the new job, because really, It's because of him that I'm here now.

It's as a direct result of his support and encouragement. His genuine care and concern for the staff he was responsible for, both directly and indirectly, and willingness to ensure they were able to grasp opportunity with both hands when it knocked.

I can quite honestly say, hand on heart, that he changed my life. What started as a stop-gap measure, a job that I knew I could do until something better came along, somehow became something more. It became a cause that I can believe in. A job that I can be passionate about, that will make a real difference to people's lives, and I can't think of a better outcome than that.

A job for life, not just for Halloween

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