All is not well within the journalism fraternity. In the recent past, journos have been losing jobs as if the profession was going out of fashion.
Maybe it is. And many have blamed it all on the mass proliferation of social media. Bosses or employers, the men and women who must take these devastating decisions like to call it such names as ‘corporate downsizing’ or ‘strategic restructuring’.
Julius Bizimungu, a fellow scribe at The New Times who is a specialist when it comes to covering beauty contests recently posted angrily on Facebook;
“Where’s optimism of journalism where disruptive technologies have presented more avenues for people to keep updated without necessarily paying for it?”
If you believe in the mantra of “no money, no life”; then you would also know that losing a job is like losing a part of life itself.
The first time I lost a job, I switched off my phone for several days as I licked my wounds and counted my losses. When I switched it back on, I was suspicious of every in-coming call and mostly communicated through text message.
The anger I had in me was of the directionless kind –meaning I was angry at everyone and everything. I even directed my anger at beer and food. The only things I had warm feelings for were hard liquor and cigarettes, which I drowned myself in while locked away in my one-room rented tenement.
No doubt this is a difficult time, not only for the one that just lost their source of livelihood, but even colleagues who may not be affected in any way.
What do you tell someone in this situation? That you’re sorry? That everything happens for a reason? That when one door closes, another window opens? That they shouldn’t be too hard on themselves because it wasn’t their fault but that of a malicious and jealous co-worker or boss?
Just what do you say?
In a way, losing a job is like losing a lover and I do not mean loss in the sense of your lover dying, but rather them chucking you. When we get ditched by those that previously occupied a warm chamber in our hearts, usually the first reaction is denial: It can’t be true! It can’t be me! Same scenario when that job is no more.
After that initial denial, raw anger sets in. You now determine that the three, five, twelve years you spent at your employer’s beck and call were an utter waste of your precious time. In your mind, you summon past incidents that should have served as easy warning signals to this ill-fated ending.
You re-affirm you secret suspicion that all bosses are evil and must have suckled from the same breast.
You angrily remind your friends who are still employed by other people that they will only be free and truly independent when they start something of their own.