The knives were definitely out last week, or so it seemed to me. No one was safe.
Slightly largish knives...
The voluntary organisation in Weybridge that I joined barely a year ago was having a purge of members. My mate was the first with the news of the cull early last week – he had been given the stark message by a colleague – the committee had made a decision – too many recruits had been taken on. Anyone who was not up to the mark would have to leave!
I had to say I was surprised. This seemed a pretty ruthless act for a voluntary organisation, and as I discussed this latest turn of events in the pub with my mate, the conclusion reached was that there was a high probability that we were in the firing line, as we joined on the tail end of the recruitment drive early in the year, and so would be the natural choice of sacrifice in preference to the more established long standing members.
This sobering thought was given added credence when I received an email from a senior committee member requesting that I phone him as soon as possible in respect to my future at the Weybridge Voluntary Organisation. A text to my mate confirmed that he had received exactly the same email. The writing was definitely on the wall.
There was nothing else to do but to go for it, and with a sense of resignation, I made the call to the committee member. His manner was friendly but business like when he gave me the news…I was staying.
The intensity of the relief I felt surprised me. This place obviously meant more to me than I thought. I had survived…for the moment at least.
