Have you ever been sacked?
Or made redundant?
Or pushed out?
Or left a job because, deep down, you knew you couldn’t stay?
It’s horrible.
There’s no need to dress it up. No need to pretend it’s a ‘wonderful opportunity’ while you’re still trying to work out what on earth just happened.
Losing a job can feel brutal. Ask Sir Keir. Even when the words are softened.
‘We’re restructuring.’
‘It’s not you, it’s your role that is at risk.’
‘We’re going in a different direction.’
‘It’s not personal.’
Ah yes. The classic.
‘It’s not personal.’
Except of course it is.
Not always in their intention. But in how it lands.
Because work is never just work.
It’s your routine. Your income. Your confidence. Your sense of usefulness. Your social circle. Your answer to the question, ‘What do you do?’
And when that disappears, even for a while, it can feel as though part of your identity has been taken with it.
I’ve spoken to people who have been sacked, made redundant or quietly forced out and they often describe the same cocktail of emotions.
Shock. Anger. Embarrassment. Fear. Shame. Confusion. And the dangerous one…
Self-doubt.
Very quickly your brilliant brain does something sneaky. It takes an event and it can it into an identity.
‘I’ve lost my job’ becomes ‘I’m useless.’
‘I’ve been made redundant’ becomes ‘I’m not wanted.’
It’s what happened. It’s the meaning you attach to what happened.
What happened is one thing.
What you decide it means is another.
Sometimes it is unfair.
Sometimes it’s politics. In Keir’s case – literally.
Sometimes someone else made a poor decision.
Sometimes the wrong person was promoted, the wrong person was protected and the wrong person was asked to leave.
Sometimes you gave everything to a place that gave very little back.
Sometimes you were brilliant and it still happened!
I don’t think strength is pretending you’re fine. Strength is being honest about the knock, then refusing to let the knock become your new identity.
There’s a difference between a chapter and a book.
Being sacked, made redundant or pushed out might be a chapter.
It doesn’t have to be the whole book.
What should Keir do?
The turning point usually begins with a better question.
How could I use this? (Not immediately. Not with a fake grin and a motivational quote printed over a sunset, beach or mountain).
But eventually leaning into ‘How could I use this?’ is ace:
A better job?
A different direction?
A stronger sense of what you will and won’t tolerate?
A chance to start the thing you’ve been talking about for years?
A reminder that your value was never owned by an employer?
A proper look at what you want?
Sometimes the door closing isn’t the lesson. Sometimes the lesson is realising you were standing in the wrong room!
Have you ever been sacked? Made redundant? Pushed out? Or left because the place no longer fitted the person you were becoming?
What did you do? How did you use this?
Be Brilliant!
Michael






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