The Illusion Of Job Security
By: Jon Peters
Tags: Work, Worst Day, Careers, Advice, Career Advice

The Illusion Of Job Security

What made me realise that nothing in this world is guaranteed.

Unless you become a midwife, undertaker or a tax collector anyway.

I’ve been in retail my entire working life. My first experience of work was at a supermarket when I was sixteen. Before long I’d moved on to bigger and better things, becoming a Barista at one of the largest coffee chains in the world, the name of which could also be used to describe the currency used in outer space. Get it?

I made overpriced coffee part-time for around three years while studying before being offered the chance at a promotion. I was successful, on the caveat that I worked full-time, and after another year I was appointed Store Manager. I loved my job. I loved my store, I loved the people I worked with and I loved (most of ) the customers I interacted with every day. But one day I realised that I’d reached my ceiling of what I could achieve, and I was sick of going home smelling like old coffee. Enough was enough.

I knew that I wanted to stay within retail, as that’s where my experience lies. But the world of retail can be a fickle mistress in this current economic climate. As I’ve grown up, I’ve seen several successful retailers disappear. Businesses which were at one point or another a key part of the UK high street have closed their doors, left hundreds of staff unemployed due to poor sales, following the rise of online shopping and the financial recession.

Nobody wants to ever be in that situation, so I decided that whatever company I applied to had to be something big, something well-established that could weather the storm of high-street struggles and make it through to live another day. I wanted job security.

This Isn’t Just Any Job

In May 2017 I submitted an application for a management position at one of the UK’s most prestigious retailers. This company started out in the late 1800s, and since then has become a cornerstone of the British shopping landscape. My parents and grandparents shopped there, and probably their parents, and their parents before them as well. The hours were less, the pay and benefits were better than my old position. There would be opportunities to progress. A few weeks later I got a call saying my application was successful. I’d hit the job security jackpot.

Or so I thought.

My Worst Day At Work

One day, probably about a year after I’d started, a text message came through on the internal work phones:

“All managers to the training room.”, it read.

Now, a message like that means one of two things. It’s either somebody’s birthday and we get to eat cake for fifteen minutes, or something has happened which is less a reason to celebrate, more reason to worry.

This time, there was no cake in sight.

We were told that the business had made the decision to cut costs. As the biggest cost in most businesses is the labour, they had reviewed the figures and deemed we had too many managers employed. We were told that we would be put through a consultation process, which essentially meant that we had to reapply for our jobs, providing evidence as to why we thought we should be kept. We would be given a score by our line managers, which would then be submitted to our regional team, who would then decide who would stay, and who would be made redundant.

My heart and those of my colleagues sank through the floor.

I felt completely deflated. The job I loved was in jeopardy. I had been so sure that this career move would mean that my job would be secure, that I could spend the next 30 years working my way up the ladder, maybe even retire early. If this company isn’t safe from the perils of the economic downturn, what is?

I had many concerns, just like the rest of my colleagues. But the two at the top of my list were as follows:

As one of the most recently recruited managers in our region, would they operate a ‘last in, first out’ policy? Was I at more risk of being let go because my short length of service meant any redundancy paid to me would be the absolute minimum?

As I was hired externally, I negotiated my salary. Which means I’m paid slightly higher than some of the other managers in the business. Would they use this as an opportunity to do a bit of extra cost-saving, get rid of someone who costs the company a little bit extra to employ?

I raised these two concerns and was assured that the process would be done anonymously. Those choosing the candidates for redundancy would not be aware of any names, as a way of eliminating any potential bias based on prior knowledge of the individual. It would be based purely upon the scores we were given, and only after potential candidates for redundancy had been selected would their names be revealed.

I remained unconvinced and was extremely worried about my position.

What happened next?

We weren’t told how long the process could take until it got started. The process of making redundancies isn’t simple, so the business had to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s. Basically, it would take as long as it takes. You can imagine how motivated we all felt leaving that room, going back to do our jobs with a dark cloud of worry over our heads.

I went home that day and immediately updated my CV. I needed some sort of back up plan, as I don’t have the luxury of being able to afford to be out of work. I have two children and as I’ve already alluded to, my short length of service meant any redundancy I’d get would be absolutely minimal. Despite the assurances I’d been given, I was convinced that I was at higher risk than some of my other colleagues.

The next few weeks of work were unbearable. We were left in a state of limbo, trying to find the motivation to carry on with our day jobs, whilst also trying not to think about the looming prospect of unemployment. We waited for weeks to finally hear some more news of what was going on:

“All managers to the training room.” the text read.

For the first time in my life, I was glad there was no cake in sight. This must be some sort of news about the redundancy program, finally telling us when the process would begin.

I was half right.

I sat down in the training room, braced for the worst. What I heard instead was a team brief, stating that due to staff turnover in our region, we had dropped below our required number of managers, and as a result, managers at my level were no longer being considered for redundancy.

You can imagine the reaction from my colleagues and I.

I left that room feeling elated, but also with the feeling I’d learned an important lesson.

No matter how big the company you work for, how many clients you have, or how skilled your job role is, your job is never guaranteed.

I joined this company because I wanted to work for a huge brand, somewhere I never thought I’d have to deal with the prospect of redundancy. But I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter if you’re a Barista or a Business Consultant, whether you work for McDonald’s or Microsoft. Look at the number of businesses worldwide that have declared bankruptcy in the past twenty years. Kodak, Blockbuster, Compaq, Enron were all huge brands that didn’t keep up with the changing business landscape, and have subsequently closed their doors.

So while there may be days when your boss irritates the hell out of you, or a customer pushes you over the edge after complaining because they specifically asked for no foam on their grande one-shot, non-fat, sugar-free vanilla latte. There will be days when your workplace is the last place on Earth you want to be. Don’t allow yourself to become complacent because of the size or the success of the company you work for. I used to. But now I realise how wrong I was.

Nothing is guaranteed in life. Apart from births, deaths, and taxes. But even then, we are all replaceable. Don’t take your job for granted.

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