Story and photograph by Neville Cole – Pig’s Arms North American Correspondent Extraordinaire
Dear Pigs,
I got a note from our good buddy Mike a little while back. After his usual kind felicitations he got right to the point. “So, I’m asking you”, he wrote, “as one of the Pig’s Arms sage old friends, do you – with your knowledge of so much of the planet – whether you have anything you would like to say about this stage of life?”
Well Mike, I’ve never been one to wear my heart on my sleeve. I like to keep things close to the vest; but as they like to meme about on twitter: Hold my beer! You see, in this stage of life, as with so many of other stages in my life, I can only repeat what I’ve always said. Let’s call it my mantra. It’s better to be lucky than good. You see, friends, I am, and always have been, a glass-half-empty kind of guy (I find it lessens the pain when things go wrong and makes the good that much more surprising and somehow satisfying). Maybe it’s just me. Before I get to my point though, let me give you a quick history lesson about what I’ve always considered my lucky break.
It was way back in 1992. I was 28, a struggling actor stumbling through life furtively trying my hand at one miserable side hustle after another. I was, quite frankly, going nowhere. To make matters worse I had a kid on the way. It was not a good time to be me. I was hanging out at the theater one blessed day (as actors often do) and the phone rang. No one was around, so I picked it up. A voice on the other end of the line asked if I would be willing to come talk, via satellite, to some high school kids in Texas about Shakespeare. “Sure,” I said…and that was it.
Three days later, I found myself, in front of a camera in a tiny studio, rambling on about Romeo and Juliet. As soon as I was done the studio phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line this time said: “What else do you do?”
That’s how my career began. No muss, no fuss. No resume or interview. No college transcript. I walked away (well, sprinted, actually) from my failed acting career and joined the ranks of the gainfully employed. 26 years and 5 mergers later, here I sit in a 4th story office chatting with HR and writing CRs. Liaising with PMOs and VPs and occasionally even COOs. Saying things like “let’s take that offline” and “I’ll put together an LOE ASAP”. My inbox is full of updates about RFPs and PPRs. I attend endless meetings trying to remember the difference between UI and UX and I fret about overages in EMM and getting yet another notice from my arch enemy, JIRA. My life has become a never-ending stream of acronyms.
Friends, it hasn’t been an easy road. Many many co-workers have come and gone and many many times I’ve been tempted to move on. But now, in the immortal words of Paul Anka, as sung by Ol’ Blue Eyes himself: “the end is near. And so I face the final curtain.”
Yep. For the first time in 26 years I am staring into the abyss, my friends. I am coming to terms with the very real possibility that I will be, how do they put it? Oh yeah… let go. Am I ready to be let go? I really don’t know; but do I have a choice? Uh, nope. No I don’t. This is a first for me; but, if there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s that, Life is a series of firsts; right to the bitter end. We are never really prepared for firsts, are we my friends? First kiss. First pimple. First uh, intimate experience. First break-up. First heartache. First job interview. First tax return. First child. First second child. First divorce. First dating while divorced. First grey hair. First hernia. First death. First… Well, you get the picture. Firsts suck.
The first thing I’ve noticed about all this is how many people have started asking me every day how I am doing. The simple answer is that it depends on the day. Hell, it depends on the moment. There are moments I am quite hopeful and excited for the future. I may be at that moment believing that good things are happening. Then in the twinkling of an eye I am terrified. Everything is going swell then I suddenly see myself standing at a freeway exit with a Will Work For Food sign. But you know friends, there has always been a fine line between terror and excitement. That, my friends, IS the razor’s edge. I am trying to walk the tightrope, here. I am trying to survive.
The other thing I’ve noticed is that there is a near constant soundtrack to my “process” (which is how I like to describe what really amounts to a lot of flailing around the dark swinging at invisible demons). Anyway, to quell my nerves, I suppose, I have I have begun to sing random songs. A lot. Almost subconsciously… Sometimes I break out into a little John Lennon:
It’s time to spread our wings and fly
Don’t let another day go by my love
It’ll be just like starting over
Starting over
Other times I’ll belt out a little Bowie.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
Even found myself humming Devo the other day.
Workin’ in the coal mine
Goin’ on down, down
Workin’ in a coal mine
Oops, about to slip down
Pretty soon, I’m sure, some Johnny Paycheck sure to turn up.
Take this job and shove it
I ain’t working here no more!
Yep. It’s a weird time to be me. But is it helping? I honestly don’t know. Does anything help at a time like this? I have worked one place my whole career. Sure, we’ve been bought out a few times and sure the work I’ve been doing has changed but I haven’t even tried to get another job since last century. I am a dinosaur. This is a big first for me. The problem with firsts is you never really know. Firsts are awkward. You make mistakes. Firsts make you feel like an idiot. First make you look like an idiot. Firsts, basically, make you an idiot.
That’s not to say I am totally alone in this. I am getting lots and lots of solid (and well-meaning) advice about what I should be doing. I’ve been told several times I should be working out. I hear also I should try meditating or reading this great self-how book that changed someone’s life. Some say this is an opportunity to get closer to god. (Oh geez, now I’m singing again: “I want to fu*k you like an animal. I want to feel you from the inside. You bring me closer to god!” Shut the fu*k up, internal DJ! You are not helping.)
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I’ve received all kind of help already. I’ve been handed numbers of employment lawyers. I’ve heard strategies for discussions with HR. I’ve been told about all the things I should be documenting as evidence. I’ve heard tons of suggestions about things I should be telling my boss (and my boss’s boss) and, of course, I’ve got a growing list of people I should reach out to explore other opportunities. It’s all stuff I already know, of course.
I am also hearing lots and lots of well-worn phrases such as, when one door closes, another opens. You know something folks, hate to break it to you but I have evidence to suggests that is literally not true. I’ve also heard a lot lately that everything happens for a reason but, you know, sometimes the reason is “shit happens” ’cause, well… it is what it is and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. So help me god, if I hear one more cliche I am going to scream! (wait… did I just cliche myself?)
But folks (excuse my brief political rant here) the real problem I have is that in another time, in another place, I’d be nearing retirement age. My future would pretty much be set. But this is the USA and this is 2018. This is Trumpland. There is no safety net. I’m going to have to pull myself up by my bootstraps, it seems. I know I am going to have to make some changes, starting now; because friends, you know what they always say: If you can’t change the situation, change yourself. That said, we all know that the only constant is change and while it’s clear that change is painful; nothing is as painful as staying where you don’t belong. Let’s face it folks, change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
So, Mike, old friend, that’s the world from where I stand. Pardon my platitudes. Hopefully, what they also always say is true and every exit is an entrance to somewhere else because, all signs point to me about to find out where that somewhere else is and all I’m saying is the grass better be greener than here because one day I hope to be laughing about all this, because, you know, in the end, all’s well that ends well.
Cheers to all. Your OLD friend.
Nev
Neville Cole said:
Good news. At the very last moment I convinced the company it wasn’t me it was them…so they offered me a year’s severance to go away quietly. I am now officially a man of leisure. What to do with my year now?
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Mark said:
Hi Nev, As a Pigs Arm moderator I saw your comment. After 3 days most articles aren’t revisited by the crew. If you want to get a better reaction you may be better to try https://pigsarms.com.au/untied-united-home-of-the-rejected-unleashed-comments/ where us poor deprived folk just talk to each other.
The answer to your question is of course 42. 🙂
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sandshoe said:
I am a rare re-visitor. I’m rare-ish frequently. I suffer from come-back-charlina syndrome that’s chronic but. I washed all my ceilings recently always aiming high so I know how you feel, Nev. Going, but hapless and reluctant unless someone pays me. Love your work. x
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vivienne29 said:
A good read. With a bit of luck she’ll be right.
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algernon1 said:
Ah Nev, so much resonance there for me.
I was let go for the first time 15 years ago after being with the organisation for nearly 25 years. We knew nearly a year before when a director walked into my bosses office; we’d just been taken over again where he asked what do you think you’ll be doing in a years time, boss mentioned this and that, where the director said you don’t expect to be here do you. A matter of waiting them out. In the end a redundancy and the best thing work wise to happen to me.
I started my own business, loved the work and the freedom, but the hours were killing me. That lasted for about 7 years. I then took a pay cut and went to work for a State Owned Corporation and still there. A merger a few years ago and recently a restructure. My team which I lead and another will be merged an two jobs into one. Just part of a wider restructure in the organisation.
I don’t know what will happen going forward, may need to apply the job. Might not and wait for the redundancy, colleague, four years younger than me, who’s team is being merged with mine thinks the same.
The dilemma is what to do, not yet ready to retire. Wait for a redundancy, apply for the job? Start a new business, work part time. Approaching 60 well don’t know.
I see our wonderful government is looking to move the age at where one can get the old age pension from 67 to 70 starting from 2025-26. Arseholes! Still Mrs A and I have options. Guess we’ll see where the boat takes us and the opportunities that arise.
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gerard oosterman said:
I too hated all that stuff about achieving and making your stamp somehow. But, you know, as the years go by it slowly comes about that nothing much matters. The days go by. Provided one has food, roof and mate. In the long run it matters only that problems/things, especially the difficult ones, are overcome.
I see the young ones getting pill tested. Not long ago I wanted youth ,get pill tested too, gyrate around the joint. Belong. How pathetic! It is overrated, Nev.
Just stay cool have a black one and flick the foam.
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Mark said:
Hi Neville, I lost everything in 2015 due to my mental health issues. Now I’m 2 minutes from a pristine beach in a national park. I’m renting not owning but I eventually landed on my feet and am doing well.
PS:Your football team sucks. 🙂
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nev cole said:
Hey Hung. Thanks Mate. Ps. Do you need a roommate?
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Mark said:
As long as we can watch the footy.
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Mark said:
PS: One of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers lives in my town. Not all the time but comes here for the surf and the fact you can have the beach to yourself. If I meet him I’ll teach him to be a Port Adelaide fan like all good supporters should be.
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Brilliant piece New
I love it.
It speaks to me.
Twice in my employment life I’ve been “let go” – first after five years’ faithful service (unfriendly takeover where the counts who fired me and 34 buddies, shortly thereafter got the arse themselves …. so there might actually be a goddess) and more recently from the University of Stuff in Sydney – they hired we business analysts a manger to “fix” our team of 8. I made the mistake of insisting that this psychopath actually spell out what was broken. In front of the whole team. He flapped. I was doomed and the fucking union wasn’t worth two bob. And HR – what a joke. These apologists for shit management are part of the problem. They will listen patiently – like sponges absorb your angst and…. fix nothing.
In my first let go, I had the fortune of being a mate with one of the more feral HR guys who got me the max payout (so a few beers is a good investment but only if the guy has a soul).
What I learnt was that the lingering feeling of impending doom (my contract – after three years had six months to run) scared me and made me feel alternatively mad bravado and deep deep self doubt. I was scared because it took me two years of amateur job hunting to land that job. I felt I had a lot to lose – not the least the roof over our heads. So I went at the process like a man possessed. And fortunately the job market had risen and it only took three months to find the next adult day care operation willing to pay me for getting out and about..
But the three jobs I’ve had since have all been six month jobs – so no attachment – and I start to look for the next job about two months in.
It’s exhausting, but effective…… but at some stage, FM and I will actually bite the bullet, sell the Victorian pile in the Inner West and head up the coast.
No debt, a few bob left over, a gentle surf and beach lifestyle to enjoy the grandkid(s), perfecting the ukulele and looking back occasionally on what a journey this is !
I would far more prefer to be in love with life’s little pleasures (and of course, FM) than worship at the shrine of employment. Cash permitting.
I now regard the last “let go” as a big message from the universe for me / us to change.
Might be my only thing that looks like free advice 🙂
Love for you, Bro.
Emm
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nev cole said:
Free advice always welcome, mate. That and free beer.
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