There are days when you feel in control - you are the one deciding your destiny.
Then there are days like today, where I am in the hands of fate - subject to factors beyond my control.
Today (hopefully) I should find out whether I still have a job or not beyond 31st March. As an IT contractor this is not an uncommon situation to be in, however the current economic climate has hit the Financial IT contract market very hard, so the chances of finding another job are low ... making the stakes higher than ever.
It's complicated, so I'm going to use the totally unrelated metaphor of a Wrestling match to try and explain my situation:
- The wrestling match is the "Keeping Doug in a Job" tag-team title fight. I currently hold the Championship Belt ("The Job"), which is sponsored by my recruitment agency.
- The referee in the centre of the ring is the company I am working for.
- In my corner (as my trainer/number one supporter) is my comically Gallic line manager from Paris. My boss likes me - hell, he even thinks I am performing my role to a high standard! He wants to keep me in the role, he says.
- On my tag team is my existing recruitment agency, who would like to keep me in the role too.
- In the other corner is a supply agency that the referee secretly wants to win the match.
The bell rings for round one!
I step out of the corner to start the fight. A millisecond later I'm hit in the back of the head by a towel as my boss throws it in. "As we’ve not been able to change your contract into a contract of service due to the contract restriction with the recruitment agency, an RFP has been submitted on the market!" he shouts in support.
As I stagger sideways, he follows up: "We’ll need to take into account a hand over period which I expect as soon as possible and will require your full participation on it!" He then shouts out to the supply agency in the other corner: "Hey! Got any decent wrestlers over there?"
But there is no immediate answer - the supply agency in the other corner has just landed a low blow on the recruitment agency. "Uurrgghh! Supply agency talk next round. Supply agency busy discussing recruitment agency's exclusion clause!"
The company referee stands to one side, thoughtfully tapping away at a calculator muttering words like "headcount", "budget costs" and "merde".
I stagger back to my corner and throw the towel back at my boss. "I thought you were on my side!"
He grins sheepishly: "I’m sorry about this inconvenience it generates for you and the level of service in the UK as it has nothing to do with the level of performance you are providing which I’m very satisfied with!"
"I remain anyway at your disposal if you think about any arrangement we could find before the deadline!" he says with a collossal Gallic shrug, before scuttling away to sit behind the supply agency's corner.
The bell rings to end round one, and I collapse in my corner as my bloodied recruitment agency team-mate crawls across the canvas to join me.
"Doug, I can't win this fight. The judges have already written the script for this one, but there might be a way that you can still win it .... "
The bell rings for round 2.
My boss hoots his support for the massive supply agency, as it lunges forwards grasping for my Championship Belt.
"Hold it!" I shout, holding the Belt at arm's length.
"You know, there is a way we can all win this fight. All of us."
The lumbering supply agency stops, then snorts in confusion. It looks at the ref, who shrugs indifferently.
"You want the belt, right?" I say, holding it up. The supply agency replies sneeringly "Supply Agency get Belt anyway! Supply agency not care!"
"Now here's the deal" I begin. "In return for getting your name on the Belt and keeping me on the team, you only have to pay half the exclusion clause to my recruitment agency."
There is a shaky thumbs-up from the recruitment agency hanging onto the ropes.
"And!" I continue, "the company keeps me in the job which makes them happy too. Right boss?" I point to him as he waves to the audience.
"Oh! Mais oui! Of course - I'm right behind you Doug!" he shouts from the supply agency's corner opposite me.
The bell rings to end round 2, and as we retreat to our corners the supply agency turns back. "Urrggghh. Supply agency think hard. Supply agency make proposal to referee in round 3!"
And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the dramatic climax at which I stand today - poised to return to the fight in round 3.
I figure I can come out of this fight in one of two ways. Either bloodied yet unbowed, like Mickey Rourke.
Or like his dog. 'Nuff said.
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