When Change Borrows the Lexicon of Grief

A Week of Lethargy

I would hate to admit to being lethargic, but there could be no other word to explain it. Last week, when returning from London, I bought a piece of rump steak and a salad, with the view to having it for supper.

That never happened. Each day as I returned home thinking I might cook, I was simply too tired to be bothered, so in most cases, I went to bed on an empty stomach and only got up quite late to take my pills.

When it comes to food, I enjoy cooking, and there are times when I do crave something different, but I never immediately act to fulfil that craving. It sits on my mind for a while until it is either dismissed as exhausting or I am compelled to act.

Steak, Finally

After more than a week, I took the steak out of the fridge, marinated it, and rather than tossing it in oil in a frying pan, I left the cooking to the air fryer. Soon it was done, wrapped in foil for five minutes, before I put it on a plate and served it with the salad.

I probably did not recover the sense of satisfaction that had greeted my initial intention and purchase, but I am glad it did not end up in the bin through disuse and spoilage.

Shifting Ground

Then, as I navigated the issues that needlessly occupy the mind in uncomfortable ways, I attended an all-hands meeting that dwelt on the future of work. It was the kind of situation where you feel the ground shifting under you as if you were experiencing an earthquake.

I was able to link this to another experience where, as a sitting tenant, my apartment was sold to a provincial carpetbagger who probably should not have been speculating in my city. Considering not much had changed in my apartment for a decade, I was receiving demands to meet rates relative to the area without any corresponding changes to the commodity.

Loving where I live and my neighbours, I have made adjustments and accommodations, but there are limits to acquiescing before it becomes untenable. A recent posting in my village would suggest I am paying over the odds.

A Contract in Flux

The shifting sands metaphor also applies to work. The services contract between my employer and the client is changing such that the functions I perform will transfer to another service provider, whilst my employer assumes an overarching responsibility between the client and all the engaged service providers.

I think my employer is somewhat conflicted, because they would lose personnel engagement but acquire a broader first line support profile, along with that control and interface between the service providers and the client. The question is whether I am transferred to a new service provider or retained to function with other clients.

Grief Is Not a Career Change

For me, that meeting was rather depressing, and it was not helped by someone in a top managerial role trying to be a psychologist, addressing issues of fundamental change to career trajectories.

For someone who has studied and traversed the Five Stages of Grief with respect to two life-threatening episodes of cancer, the last thing I expected was to recognise those words adapted into a philosophy of change at work.

The intent was commendable, but I do not think due consideration was given to the effect such associations would have on the attendees. Changing jobs or having employment contracts change whilst retaining the same role can never equate to any stage of grief of the kind I had experienced.

It was almost as if she were having a laugh whilst trying to be empathetic and serious.

In the end, I was unimpressed and totally nonchalant, even as the burden of other concerns, including health challenges, became a lexicon of daily struggles seeking ascendancy over better stories and good living.

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