Is There Food?

by Daniel Woolstencroft



  1. No longer needed or useful; superfluous.

  2. (of words or data) Able to be omitted without loss of meaning or function.

As of today, Monday the 8th of August 2011, I have no job. I’ve been made redundant by the company I used to work for. This is not something that’s ever happened to me before. And it’s been an interesting experience.

I have no desire to badmouth the company I worked for. There’s no bad blood, and I’m grateful for the things they’ve taught me and the experiences that have shaped me professionally while I was there.

But this is an interesting sensation. You always envisage things being under your own control, or at least I have. I’ve always thought that the next move is my own, that my hand won’t be forced, and that working hard, being professional, and striving to better myself is the right thing to do. Part of that is correct: you do the best job you can, because otherwise why do the job in the first place? I firmly believe that. If you stop bettering yourself, stop learning new things, then why get out of bed in the morning? But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience it’s that professionally, you’re not always in control of your own destiny.

And yet, in a delightfully contradictory fashion, I am now very much in control of my own destiny. Every cloud has a silver lining, right? So I’m flipping this on its head. My hand has been forced, I’ve been left with no choice in the matter: it’s time to find The Next Thing. Which in a lot of ways is exciting.

Redundant can be a damaging word. One could become consumed by the definition of the word,  crippled by the apparent lack of usefulness or function.

I like to think I’m not being made redundant. I’m being made free.