Desolation

I have never pretended to love my work. It serves a purpose - let's me do other things - and doesn't always bore me stupid, so it's a step up from some of the jobs I've had in the past. It's generally a fairly happy place to be, because the others in the office tend to share similar views, to a certain extent. We're all quite happy to leave the office at the end of the day and go to our own lives. Sometimes that means that we all go out together. More often, it's catching up with friends and couches of our own. Which is what makes it especially sad to think that my office is changing.

Walking through the buildings now, it's like wandering an ocean of empty desks with occasional islands of work happening. Early last year, there was barely enough room for all of the people in the London office. When I left to get my visa situation sorted out, there was no doubt that there would be a permanent position waiting for me on the other side of the approval process. Now, the company has halved in size since the first round of redundancies last August. The losses have been almost exclusively architecture and support staff in London. So far, the other departments and offices have escaped unscathed. Areas that used to buzz with people jammed together are now silent. Either the gap to the next desk is too far for chatter, or there's no work going on.

Last Friday was the last day at the company for around 7 people, maybe more. Many kept the news to themselves until the last minute. Some never commented at all, just quietly cleaned their desks and left for the last time. For some, it's an opportunity to go and do the things they have always wanted to do. For others, it's a terrifying prospect. There is one who will become father to twins in June. Another has worked at the same desk for almost 20 years. He was in tears as he left for the last time as an employee. There are bills, mortgages, living, and there is no work out there.

The usual leaving drinks were held on Friday night seeing us trekking all over London trying to oblige the people who were leaving. Lunch in Goodge St. Back to the ghetto for drinks at our usual watering hole. Racing north once more to Hoxton Square, before running for the last tube home. There was a kind of desperation in the celebrations. We all knew that things wouldn't be the same after this, and we were determined to give them a good send-off. But this isn't like any of the other rounds of redundancies. This time, there is absolutely nothing out there for them. And even for those of us lucky enough to still have a job, there is the knowledge that we may find ourselves out of work at any time. The drinking was enthusiastic, the merriment forced, the fear lurking in all of us about what might be around the corner. And today in the office, all was silence, awestruck with the speed of events and no end in sight.

Because we all feel it. A Depression is not just about the economic mood of the country. It's about the attitude. The building industry is depressed in every sense of the word. The bubble has burst, and we're all wondering how long it's going to take for another to start to form. Please let it be soon. The emotions that were floating around on Friday were not pleasant and can only end badly for some who invest a whole lot more in their work than I do. For those who are defined by it, I hope the turnaround is on it's way. But somehow I doubt it.