Recombobulating after redundancy
My family and I began to experience a time of turbulence last March when I learned that my contract at the National Museum of Ireland wasn’t going to be renewed. On paper, it shouldn’t have come as a shock – five years ago I signed a contract that said I was being employed on a fixed-term basis, for five years. But in total I’d been there for almost eight years, working on the same project, and I’d been convinced for various reasons that the position should never have been for just five years and that it would be saved.
But it wasn’t and I got my perfunctory “thank you for your service” letter in the post to confirm.
That evening I sat on the stairs and cried my eyes out. At that point it wasn’t for the fear of unemployment, or worry about the mortgage, or even how…
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