My brave new world

The axe was going to fall. We all knew that our jobs were on the line, and someone had to go. There were anxious discussions about who would get the sack (although management used a less-brutal term like downsizing) — wild guesses, speculation, detailed analyses — everything short of consulting the astrologer, and maybe for all I know, someone may have done that too! And when we finally learnt that there was a mass culling, relief was bitter-sweet. I was losing my job, but so were the others. So I wasn't the rotten apple, the sole bad performer.

Prior to losing my job, I had some fairly severe panic attacks about what I would do. Time would hang heavily on my hands, or so I thought. I'd become a lazy lump, just lying in bed and getting up not before noon, watching inane soaps on TV, eating at all odd times — in short, an undisciplined slob! And then there was the belt-tightening I imagined we'd go through — none of the little extras and luxuries like visits to restaurants or quick getaway breaks! Worst of all, however, was my standing in the family. Would my near and dear ones change their attitude towards me now that I'd no longer be bringing in a paypacket? The more I thought about all this, the more depressed and dismayed I became.

But, like many things in life, my fears were unfounded. I swung between extreme indolence to frenetic activity, until I found the perfect happy medium.

The first few days were spent doing just what I'd imagined I'd be doing. Old habits die hard, and my eyes automatically opened at 6 am. But they quickly shut again — there was no need to get up! After a leisurely cup of tea at 10 am, I plonked down to watch the idiot box — the chores could wait! This honeymoon phase lasted for a couple of weeks until guilt overcame me. I then tried to be the perfect house-wife, the ones I read about in the glossies — prettying up the house, making sure the fringes on the rugs fell in the same direction, dishing out exotic menus....alas, I was in danger of becoming a 50s housewife, except that I did not dress up before the breadwinner came home, as housewives of those days were advised to do. The pyjamas were just too comfortable to discard!

Hobbies rejuvenated

Having tried both these extremes, I decided on following the middle path — neither becoming a slob nor the perfect wife-cum-hostess. I gave attention to the house without letting it become an obsession. Long-forgotten hobbies and talents were rejuvenated — my old love of dancing saw me join a zumba class, where I puffed and panted with an assortment of women of all ages and all sizes. How I loved it!

The belt-tightening was not as bad as I'd imagined — it just required careful planning with the finances. These included not shopping at the priciest supermarkets and not indulging in any impulse buying. I found that I actually enjoyed this kind of discipline. Instead of going out to expensive restaurants, we had cosy home-cooked meals with family or friends, and were invited out more often.

But my worst fear — the attitude of my family to the non-earning me — was without any basis. Of course there were a few groans with the belt-tightening, but on the whole everyone adjusted beautifully, especially as I now had the time and the energy to watch over things with a hawk's eye! Good! I could still boss over them!

It may be a cliche to say that a whole new world opened up before me, but that was exactly what happened. It was only my involuntary retirement that taught me to get off my personal treadmill, and take time to smell the flowers.

Padmini B. Sankar is a freelance writer based in Dubai.