Despite no warning or inkling, I knew what was going to happen when I was called to the boardroom. I’d only been in the job nine months. Before that I was at Tequila for nine years and only left because a senior designer role came up closer to home. No Thameslink and no northern line. Bliss.
So I threw away Soho for Sleepy Hollow. Except it wasn’t sleepy. “By the way – we’re going to call you ‘art director’ because we can’t afford both”. I was told upon my arrival. I didn’t mind. I can direct art as well as design. Plus, I enjoy variety and I like being busy. And busy I was, Pitch after pitch. Promotion after promotion...
“... Oh good you can write copy too – please write a press release for this by next week”. (Better keep her sweet – she’s the boss. Well, not my boss. My boss is the creative “director”. She just owns the company.) What about that client deadline? Still got to take a photo of Dave doing something crazy for the website. Had I come up with a new colour scheme for the walls yet and chosen a swatch for the curtains? Why were there no handles on the new cupboards in the toilet? (errrm.... ask me another). Had I taken photo’s of my last visit to the supermarket and put them on the system? If not why not? Everyone must take pictures whenever they stock up on bog roll. Where are the designs for the meeting? Need to write the copy for Nat's presentation. I promised I’d look at it even though it’s not on the schedule. Why are the walls bare in reception? Hang pictures ASAP. No hooks. Go to Homebase at lunchtime. I’ll start the days work once boss(y) woman’s gone home. Wonder what mood she’ll be in tomorrow. Will she like me or hate me? Either way she’ll probably have a new pashmina.
.............................................................................
To: All Staff
From: Boss(y) Woman
This office is a disgrace. Everybody tidy your areas this afternoon because if I come in tomorrow and this place is still a mess heads will role. (sic)
.............................................................................
I enjoyed the variety that comes with a small company. Designer, art director, copy writer, interior designer, handy man, art buyer, cleaner. It was fun. Jack of all trades – master of none (apparently).
“Our clients have changing needs, therefore we’re making your role redundant”.
It wasn’t my boss, the creative director that told me (AKA Hardy for the sake of this blog). It was Boss(y) woman’s right hand woman – deliverer of bad tidings and bollockings. A kind of Ann Robinson type but without the facelift. Shock and horror swept over me and I burst into tears. I hadn’t seen it coming at all. I’d been too busy, My role was being made redundant.
What was my role again? I’d forgotten.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------