How I got started
The first indication seemed almost innocuous, a proposal wrapped in sound financial and business sense. The company was looking to cut costs, become more efficient, outsource the routine elements of our work to allow us to focus on higher-end projects. A sound financial and business proposal made in February 2007.
I had been working for a US based company for ten years, managing a satellite support team, which at its peak numbered 35 personnel, in Cork, Ireland. As a design and helpdesk support centre we were a significant cost, a cost that would be greatly reduced if some of our work was outsourced to India. An investigation began, a company was quickly picked and signed-up and work practices were changed to incorporate our new ‘right-hand-man’ in India. Now I was managing two offices, one internal and one external and every time one of my team left in Cork they were replaced in India. The writing was on the wall and for the first time a recurring wish of mind came to the fore.
Over the previous six years I had put myself back through college, a four-year evening BA in English and Italian followed by a two-year executive MBA, finishing in December 2006. 2007 was to be my year to move onwards and upwards to a new job but the outsourced team in India opened up one further possibility. I was ten years in, redundancy was a real prospect, I guessed, no more than twelve months away. I had always wanted to write a book and perhaps this was my chance. A new job would own me for at least the first year; extra hours worked to impress, no request to step-up denied, a model employee; and what little precious time left would be spent with my wife and three children. It was now or never.
I began my first book, ‘Ship of Rome’ in March 2007, working to the same schedule that had seen me through my BA and MBA, ever mindful as the months passed of how my team in Cork was dwindling while the Indian team grew in opposition. Then, in September 2007, two drastically different events occurred. I was taken on by an agent in London, A.M. Heath & Co., and the HR Vice-President arrived on an unscheduled visit from the US to announce the company was ceasing operations in Cork and outsourcing the remaining positions to India.
Now the book took on a completely new significance, going beyond the fulfilment of a desire to a never-dreamed-off possibility, a career.
The redundancy date was set for 30th November, giving us time to migrate the remaining Cork services to India, effectively allowing us to train the very people who would replace us. At the same time, my agent, Bill Hamilton, had me work on preparing the book for market, a bold attack that would be made in January. Work became frenetic on all fronts; negotiations on out redundancy deal, trips to HQ in the US to finalise the hand-over, meeting with recruitment agencies while the CV was given ten years of updates, while underneath it all ‘Ship of Rome’ took its final form.
The 30th November came and went, a god-awful time that ended ten years of security and comfort, casting the last of my team and I onto the jobs market at the very beginning of a down-turn in the Irish and global economy. The book was at this time out of my hands, sitting on my agent’s desk, waiting for January while I attended interview after interview, my mind on the job but my heart elsewhere, sitting on that same desk in London, impatiently waiting for the new-year.
January arrived. Nothing happened. I became nervous; what was going on? I discovered I had to wait until the second week, until everyone was fully back to work, giving them time to settle in after Christmas. The rush of interviews experienced in December dried up. January, a normally busy time for hiring, was abnormally quiet. More and more significance was put on the book. The second week arrived; the book was released to market. I waited. Nothing happened. The third week passed. I sent e-mails to my agent; any news? He replied; People were reading the book, many were interested but no news yet, nothing definitive. Checking my e-mail account became an hourly event with a voice in the back of my mind telling me I should be chasing up other prospects, ‘real’ jobs, but the book had become the end-all and the be-all, the job I always wanted, the career I was born to pursue, my mind conveniently forgetting that only a year before I had finished an MBA with thoughts of rising in the ranks of business management.
The end of January arrived with a flourish, the first offer arriving in the last week followed by a few days of canny bidding and counter-bidding, ending in the ultimate job-offer. A three-book deal!
I felt numb, totally unable to absorb the news. Too much had happened over the previous year, too big a change had occurred. So long before I had chosen a path; back to college, a career in management, onwards and upwards. I was good at my job, I was a good manager, I liked it. My feet were firmly on the ground and on the right path, the road behind stretching back ten years, the road ahead straight and true. 2007 was supposed to be all about finding the next rung on the career ladder, working my notice and moving on to greener pastures. But one event changed all that, one catalyst that has in effect changed my whole life; redundancy.
I have seen redundancy from many sides. As a business manager I had made people redundant, people close to me were laid-off from other companies during other downturns, and finally the inevitable happened to me. For me the greatest fear stemmed from the uncertainty that suddenly clouded my future. In the past, my life had taken unexpected turns, sudden changes that could not be planned for but with all things, those experiences, and the lessons learned about the fickleness of the future, faded into the routine of life. For ten years the pay-cheques had arrived without fail and for ten years I stuck to the plan, following the course that I had decided upon, my job becoming just another facet of my life, an unstated necessity devoid of conscious evaluation, a means to an ends that would never end, ‘until retirement do us part’. Or in my case, redundancy.
I was lucky. I saw redundancy coming a mile away. I was given a chance to do something I had always wanted to do before the axe fell. If I had been caught unawares I honestly don’t know if ‘Ship of Rome’ would ever have been written. Uncertainty breeds an overwhelming need for security and a return to status quo. For most of us, and I always included myself in this majority, that means a new job, maybe better, maybe worse, maybe exactly the same with just a different logo on the company pen. For others, and I’ve known a brave few, they compound the uncertainty until it becomes the driving force for a new career, a complete course change in their lives.
After my own experience I now feel that perhaps opportunity lies in every redundancy, sometimes glaring, sometimes hidden. Opportunities great and small; to travel, to begin a new career, to immigrate to a new country, to follow some wish that before was sleeping in the folds of the routine that drives our working-life. Maybe redundancy can mean more than change unwillingly thrust upon you by another’s decree. It can be a chance to re-examine the course you have set yourself in life and perhaps, just perhaps, discover another road that you never knew existed.
I had been working for a US based company for ten years, managing a satellite support team, which at its peak numbered 35 personnel, in Cork, Ireland. As a design and helpdesk support centre we were a significant cost, a cost that would be greatly reduced if some of our work was outsourced to India. An investigation began, a company was quickly picked and signed-up and work practices were changed to incorporate our new ‘right-hand-man’ in India. Now I was managing two offices, one internal and one external and every time one of my team left in Cork they were replaced in India. The writing was on the wall and for the first time a recurring wish of mind came to the fore.
Over the previous six years I had put myself back through college, a four-year evening BA in English and Italian followed by a two-year executive MBA, finishing in December 2006. 2007 was to be my year to move onwards and upwards to a new job but the outsourced team in India opened up one further possibility. I was ten years in, redundancy was a real prospect, I guessed, no more than twelve months away. I had always wanted to write a book and perhaps this was my chance. A new job would own me for at least the first year; extra hours worked to impress, no request to step-up denied, a model employee; and what little precious time left would be spent with my wife and three children. It was now or never.
I began my first book, ‘Ship of Rome’ in March 2007, working to the same schedule that had seen me through my BA and MBA, ever mindful as the months passed of how my team in Cork was dwindling while the Indian team grew in opposition. Then, in September 2007, two drastically different events occurred. I was taken on by an agent in London, A.M. Heath & Co., and the HR Vice-President arrived on an unscheduled visit from the US to announce the company was ceasing operations in Cork and outsourcing the remaining positions to India.
Now the book took on a completely new significance, going beyond the fulfilment of a desire to a never-dreamed-off possibility, a career.
The redundancy date was set for 30th November, giving us time to migrate the remaining Cork services to India, effectively allowing us to train the very people who would replace us. At the same time, my agent, Bill Hamilton, had me work on preparing the book for market, a bold attack that would be made in January. Work became frenetic on all fronts; negotiations on out redundancy deal, trips to HQ in the US to finalise the hand-over, meeting with recruitment agencies while the CV was given ten years of updates, while underneath it all ‘Ship of Rome’ took its final form.
The 30th November came and went, a god-awful time that ended ten years of security and comfort, casting the last of my team and I onto the jobs market at the very beginning of a down-turn in the Irish and global economy. The book was at this time out of my hands, sitting on my agent’s desk, waiting for January while I attended interview after interview, my mind on the job but my heart elsewhere, sitting on that same desk in London, impatiently waiting for the new-year.
January arrived. Nothing happened. I became nervous; what was going on? I discovered I had to wait until the second week, until everyone was fully back to work, giving them time to settle in after Christmas. The rush of interviews experienced in December dried up. January, a normally busy time for hiring, was abnormally quiet. More and more significance was put on the book. The second week arrived; the book was released to market. I waited. Nothing happened. The third week passed. I sent e-mails to my agent; any news? He replied; People were reading the book, many were interested but no news yet, nothing definitive. Checking my e-mail account became an hourly event with a voice in the back of my mind telling me I should be chasing up other prospects, ‘real’ jobs, but the book had become the end-all and the be-all, the job I always wanted, the career I was born to pursue, my mind conveniently forgetting that only a year before I had finished an MBA with thoughts of rising in the ranks of business management.
The end of January arrived with a flourish, the first offer arriving in the last week followed by a few days of canny bidding and counter-bidding, ending in the ultimate job-offer. A three-book deal!
I felt numb, totally unable to absorb the news. Too much had happened over the previous year, too big a change had occurred. So long before I had chosen a path; back to college, a career in management, onwards and upwards. I was good at my job, I was a good manager, I liked it. My feet were firmly on the ground and on the right path, the road behind stretching back ten years, the road ahead straight and true. 2007 was supposed to be all about finding the next rung on the career ladder, working my notice and moving on to greener pastures. But one event changed all that, one catalyst that has in effect changed my whole life; redundancy.
I have seen redundancy from many sides. As a business manager I had made people redundant, people close to me were laid-off from other companies during other downturns, and finally the inevitable happened to me. For me the greatest fear stemmed from the uncertainty that suddenly clouded my future. In the past, my life had taken unexpected turns, sudden changes that could not be planned for but with all things, those experiences, and the lessons learned about the fickleness of the future, faded into the routine of life. For ten years the pay-cheques had arrived without fail and for ten years I stuck to the plan, following the course that I had decided upon, my job becoming just another facet of my life, an unstated necessity devoid of conscious evaluation, a means to an ends that would never end, ‘until retirement do us part’. Or in my case, redundancy.
I was lucky. I saw redundancy coming a mile away. I was given a chance to do something I had always wanted to do before the axe fell. If I had been caught unawares I honestly don’t know if ‘Ship of Rome’ would ever have been written. Uncertainty breeds an overwhelming need for security and a return to status quo. For most of us, and I always included myself in this majority, that means a new job, maybe better, maybe worse, maybe exactly the same with just a different logo on the company pen. For others, and I’ve known a brave few, they compound the uncertainty until it becomes the driving force for a new career, a complete course change in their lives.
After my own experience I now feel that perhaps opportunity lies in every redundancy, sometimes glaring, sometimes hidden. Opportunities great and small; to travel, to begin a new career, to immigrate to a new country, to follow some wish that before was sleeping in the folds of the routine that drives our working-life. Maybe redundancy can mean more than change unwillingly thrust upon you by another’s decree. It can be a chance to re-examine the course you have set yourself in life and perhaps, just perhaps, discover another road that you never knew existed.
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