“Torn clothes are funny … until your dad gets fired.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana
A simple Google search of “retrenchment in Kenya 2020” yields some very disturbing statistics.
According to the East African, at least one million Kenyans have lost their jobs or have been put on indefinite unpaid leave as the as the Covid-19 pandemic morphs into a major crisis.
Jubilee Insurance for instance is set to lay off 52 of its 628 full-time workers ahead of the intended split of its medical and general insurance businesses.
Journalists and staff of five leading media groups in Kenya will also have their pays slashed by up to 50% as ads spend by businesses drop due to the coronavirus pandemic.
Standard is set to layoff 170 journalists. Nation Media Group has also sacked senior editors and managers.
Other companies that have outright already retrenched or announced their plans to retrench citing the need to cut payroll costs include: IBM, Jubilee Insurance, East African Breweries Limited (EABL), Telkom Kenya, Stanbic Bank Kenya, Software firm Andela, among others.
We can only hope and pray that things get better in 2020 but with the current trend, it’s unlikely and most people are going to be rendered jobless.
This employee retrenchment isn’t a trend just for companies only, even NGO staff are being affected as a result of shrinking donor funds – story of my life 🙂
In this series I share with you my retrenchment journey 3 years on, going back to paid employment as well as giving practical advice for dealing with a job loss, retrenchment, networking, looking for work, and traveling (yes!) during the tough economic times.
Today marks the third anniversary of my retrenchment. It all started on an evening in August of 2017— a day which changed my life forever and one I will remember for years to come.
As a super planner, I had this habit of making sure that I had all the following day’s activities planned and everything set.
To effectively do that, I’d always check both my boss’ outlook calendar for the following as well as mine. On this particular evening, I noticed that our Director had called all the senior management team (SMT) for an impromptu meeting. It struck me but I decided not to think too much about it.
I said to myself I had nothing to worry about – I had just signed my 3 year contract renewal about 2 weeks earlier. I had just worked together on a project document with the rest of my team mates and had been allocated funding for the next 3 years. Even if there was some retrenchment as a result of the cut, there’s no way I’d be one of those who’d go home. So, I shut down my laptop and left for home.
It may be worth mentioning that it wasn’t your traditional 8 to 5 job. The organization had something called a flexy. As long as you adhere to the core working hours (10:00 am to 12:00 noon and 14:00 pm to 16:00 pm) and clocked 39 hours at the end of the work week, how you spend the rest of your time was really up to you. One also got the opportunity to work from home, occasionally. And the pay wasn’t bad either.
Anyway, the following day I got to the office a couple minutes to 10 o’clock as I had started my day with an offsite meeting. I found pretty much everyone else had already arrived.
Things were tense.
If you thought 24 hours was a short time, think again:)
“Come on over to the cafeteria,” the manager announced. “We have an impromptu staff meeting”.
Between my going home the previous evening and coming back to the office the next day, another meeting involving all staff had been called for that afternoon.
I felt my pulse in my throat. My whole body trembled as I lowered my weight experimentally onto the antique copper seat.
“What could be the issue?” I wondered quietly. I bit my lower lip and tightened my hands as I sat down.
The room was about as soulful as a funeral service at the Langáta cemetery. Except for the hum of a water dispenser in one of the corners which sounded eerily loud in the silence of the room.
In a moment, all eyes delivered across to the large glass door as the aluminium handle turned. The door creaked open and out stepped the organization’s director.
Tall and slight. His patten leather shoes and the expensive cut and midnight blue sheen of his pants a perfect match for his suave demeanor.
But none of these made up for what he was about to say….
Each word that he uttered hammered me to the chore.
“I didn’t see this coming. I’m sorry,” he concluded and sat down to take questions.
The donor had cut funding…. And there were going to be job cuts.
Now, if you’ve been alive long enough, you’ve probably heard enough retrenchment horror stories. I remember my days in the Telecommunications industry where people would learn of their lay offs when their access codes ceased to function. This would soon be followed by security escort to help you clear your desk before you’re ushered out of the building.
I always prayed to God that may this level of humiliation never be my portion, but this suddenly seemed a quite more attractive option because according to the employment and labor laws of Kenya, we would have to wait for 30 days to know who exactly was affected.
My jaw dropped. A shiver shook me. I only managed one deep breath, but struggled for the next.
Shortly after, the first tear broke free. I bent forward, took out my handkerchief, and quickly stopped the rest of the tears that were hell-bent on following in an unbroken stream.
Much of what happened after that is a little blurry in my mind and I don’t remember if anyone asked questions. He suggested we could go home and sleep over the news and if anyone had any questions or needed any clarifications, his door was always open.
Thirty days later, an email landed in my inbox. I was one of 18 staff who had been shown the door.
I understood for the first time at that moment, what it means to be caught between a rock and a hard stone.
I stared at my laptop screen, wondering how I hadn’t seen this coming.
Had I?
Re-reading that email hurt my spirit the more. It was written with such surety. Like, whoever had made the decision was conc sure with their decision.
In the heat of the moment, I couldn’t help but reminisce over how much I loved this job.
It felt like a dream.
Couldn’t management take into consideration how much effort I put into my work? How hard I worked and gave my best? I thought I had given my all. Was this really happening to me?
Absobloodylutely!
Next post —surviving the notice period
Cheers,
EvaMtalii
