Glass Half Full: Chapter 7
A former drinks PR’s optimistic guide to life after redundancy
19 January 2009

Days since redundancy: three months
Best beer of the week: Harvey’s Sussex Best Bitter – a cheering drink on a wet and cold day in Sussex
Best business investment: fan heater for home office

I wasn’t surprised to hear on the radio earlier this week that 19th January is the worst day of the year. I didn’t catch how this sound bite was arrived at, but I’m guessing it’s a combination of the weeks to go before the next, much-needed pay cheque, the gloomy weather, the guilt over abandoned New Year’s Resolutions, the festive weight gain that refuses to shift… . Even an optimist can find precious little to be overly cheerful about in mid-January.

Despite this apparently nationwide gloom, the past week at Shiel Comms has been busy enough. Drafting a press release on the opening of The Lost Monkey Café, just round the corner from me, and sending invitations to local journalists kept me gainfully employed for a day or so and reminded me what it’s like to do proper PR for a client, rather than the unending self-promotion of recent months. The launch went well, thanks mainly to an appearance by Francis Maude to cut the ribbon. And it’s exciting to be involved at the start of a new business that looks like it might go somewhere.

In the same week, I passed my ‘three months since redundancy’ milestone. I’m not one for lengthy navel-gazing, but I did give some thought to what I’ve missed and not missed about my previous life. Obviously, the regular pay cheque is top of the list. But up there too are my ex-colleagues. That everyday interaction with other human beings - most of the people I’ve worked with have fallen into this category, though I’d want scientific proof on a few - is something you take for granted until you find yourself working from a converted bedroom with nothing but the radio for company between 8.00 and 5.00.

Sure, I’m spared the distractions of office life, and I don’t miss queuing for a lift, or fire drills on cold mornings. But I do miss having other bright and willing brains to pick at close quarters: PR is – at its best – a mixture of creativity and nuts-and-bolts pragmatism, and bouncing ideas off others has always seemed the best way to arrive at an inspired and yet workable plan.

I also miss being in London. Meeting a friend for a drink or catching a film after work now has to be subjected to a cost-benefit analysis against the £17 train fare and one hour-plus travel time needed to get me up to the big city. Spontaneous socialising, always a challenge given my part-time and unpaid job as cook and chauffeur to two children, is now close to impossible. Oh, and while I’m on the subject, note to my family: ‘working from home’ is materially different to being at home, available to run errands at your request and fitting a little bit of that PR thing I do around them.

Finally, and surprisingly, I quite miss my commute to London. Not the £3,000 season ticket, nor the – thankfully infrequent – delays. But the hour of enforced sitting down before getting to my desk was good planning time that I’m finding hard to reinstate in my new regime. And the homeward journey was also valuable time for reflection or reading. I’ve not managed a single novel since October, which is a real ‘missing’.

On balance though, there’s more to be grateful for than to regret about freelance life. I love the the fact that every day is different, and every week brings new opportunities. I love being able to look out of the window and decide it’s perfect weather for a jog round the park at lunchtime, and having the flexibility to work later in the evening to make up for it.

Most of all, I love feeling in control of my own destiny in a way that I haven’t for years. Of course the recession – are we allowed to call it that now? - is going to make finding clients harder, but not impossible, and if I end up without any, it’ll be largely my own fault for not getting out there and finding them. Which is both exhilarating and, frankly, a bit scary! But I’m looking forward to the next three months, whatever they bring.

Ros Shiel was public relations manager for Beautiful Beer, a campaign funded by the UK’s brewers and pub companies to improve the image of beer. She was made redundant last October after funding for the project was cut and is now working as a freelance PR consultant and copywriter. Ros lives in Horsham and spends her free time running round the park, writing blogs and drinking beer in as many local pubs as she can justify visiting in the name of research.

http://www.shielcomms.co.uk/