202005 - Six Months to Work It Out
A young man, a redundancy notice, and the search for what comes next
Letter ID: LON-202005
Dear London,
Two years ago, I walked into ITV fresh out of university with my head held high. I was finally working in TV! A proper job. Recognisable company. Their offices were a big building right behind Westfield in Shepherds Bush. The kind of place your mum tells her friends about. I remember thinking, I’ve made it. Or at least, I’ve made a start.
But almost from day one, something felt… off.
At lunch, I’d sit with people who’d been there twenty, sometimes thirty years. Good people. Talented people. But the conversations always drifted back to the same place — “It didn’t used to be like this.” Budgets tighter. Teams smaller. Decisions slower. A lot of sighing. A lot of nostalgia. I’d nod along, but in my head I’d think: people at Netflix probably aren’t saying this.
I could see it. The future wasn’t here. Terrestrial TV felt like a ship that already knew it was sinking, but was still arguing about the music on deck. And yet, I stayed. Because ITV on my CV felt safe. Sensible. Like a good move, even if my gut kept whispering otherwise.
Then two weeks ago, everything went quiet.
A company-wide email landed mid-morning. Mandatory video call at 11am. No context. No subject line that softened the blow. Just enough time for the office to fill with whispers and side-eyes and fake smiles that didn’t quite land.
We all logged on. And just like that, they told us.
A thousand roles gone within six months. Thank you for your service. We appreciate everything you’ve given.
I remember staring at my screen, listening to words that felt rehearsed and hollow, while my chest tightened. Six months. That’s what I’ve got. Six months to work out my future.
I didn’t even cry. I just felt… empty.
What scares me isn’t just losing the job. It’s what comes next. I know I don’t want to stay in traditional television. I’ve seen where it’s headed, and I don’t want to spend twenty years talking about the good old days. But stepping away from something “respectable” feels like stepping off a cliff.
People keep saying, “You’ve got options.” But options are terrifying when none of them feel solid.
Do I apply for jobs again? The thought makes my stomach turn. It took hundreds of applications to land this role. Hundreds of rejections, automated emails, silence. I don’t know if I’ve got that fight in me again.
Do I start my own thing on YouTube? That feels even scarier. The internet is loud. Oversaturated. Everyone’s already doing it, and doing it better. I wouldn’t even know where to start — just a camera, my thoughts, and the risk of failing very publicly.
I feel stuck between two fears: the fear of staying somewhere with no future, and the fear of stepping into one that’s uncertain.
I know I’m not unique. Plenty of people have been through worse. But right now, I feel young and exposed and unsure of my footing. Like I did everything “right” — studied hard, got the job, stuck it out — and still ended up here.
I’m writing in the hope that someone out there understands what it feels like to be standing at the edge of a decision you didn’t choose. Someone who’s been made redundant and didn’t let it define them. Someone who took a risk and survived it. Or even someone who stayed safe and found peace in that choice.
I don’t need a perfect plan. I just need a little clarity. Or courage. Or reassurance that this isn’t the beginning of the end — just the uncomfortable middle.
Right now, all I know is this: the future isn’t where I was. I just don’t know where it is yet.
Marlon
Occasionally we shape real stories into letters, so every voice is heard
Source: Letter sent in by the writer
Photo Credits
Images are sourced to enhance the reading experience and do not depict the original writer
•Letter image: iStock.com/ Михаил Руденко