Next Stop: All Change

 3-4 min. read

I am fresh from my annual autumn visit to the UK. It’s a tradition that pre-dates COVID-19. When I first moved to mainland Europe, I was delighted to discover there were not one, but two, public holidays in early November; All Saints and The Armistice commemoration day. It was an ideal time to get away without using up too much annual leave. Once post-lockdown travel resumed, so did this autumnal habit.

The custom has remained intact, although it has been almost two years since I had to worry about booking annual leave. The stress of professional limbo also warrants a change of scene, mind you. This year, I have as good a reason as any for taking a break. Not long before I catch the Eurostar to London, life shifts course in a way that has me doing a lot of rushing around.

Sometime back in early September, I meet with one of my Brussels’ Day Ones, Sylvia. We catch each other up on our summer news and travels. She asks about how the job search is going. I inform her of my most recent disappointment. Plus, at that moment, I’m in the midst of a rather long and convoluted recruitment process for another potential role. There’s still almost three months to go before it concludes. Even if I were to be successful, I can’t wait that long to start earning money. State assistance now only covers the absolute basics. 

I explain to Sylvia that I’ve looked into teaching, to no avail. I don’t have the requisite qualifications. No great loss. I wasn’t too keen on that option anyway. Another friend, Karin has suggested I think of au pair work in the interim. According to the numerous parent-with-young-children Facebook groups of which Karin’s a member, native Anglophones are in short supply. No wonder. Most first-language English speakers in Brussels already have good jobs. They don’t need to subject themselves to skivvy’s work. Bar the sex industry, I would consider most other things before doing something as potentially exploitative as being an au pair. My mum agrees. As does Sylvia.

Why don’t you try freelance editing and proofreading in the meantime?, she proposes.

It’s like the first time I’m hearing it. Why didn’t I think of that before? In fact, it’s not the first time someone has suggested it, according to mum and Karin. It’s just I’d previously been averse to the idea. In hindsight, a number of folk have encouraged me to consider the independent/consultant route. It either seemed inappropriate or unrealistic. I’ve heard enough nightmare stories about how hard Belgian bureaucracy is on sole traders. If I did entertain the notion, it was something to act on after accruing some savings during my next salaried role, whenever that might be. 

Life, Destiny, God had other ideas.

I’m immediately galvanised by Sylvia’s suggestion. She passes on information about a Belgian cooperative that helps take the sting out of the admin, for a nominal annual membership fee. As if by way of confirmation, during the coming weeks I’ll meet a number of individuals who have used the scheme themselves or know somebody who has. 

I set about gathering as much information about becoming self-employed as possible. I attend information sessions at the cooperative and meetings with my union to understand any other legal obligations I have. I inform my life coach and job mentor. Both are thrilled by my change of direction, offering invaluable support and practical tips. It’s especially good news for my back-to-work mentor. Prior to this development, it hadn’t seemed like quite the right fit; different ages and life stages. It turns out that hers is exactly the kind of skill set I require now that I’m looking to launch solo.

There'll be things I'll miss about having a regular job; the stability and fringe benefits for a start. On the other hand, you can't beat the flexibility of working freelance. The main challenge is establishing a client base. I reach out to acquaintances in a similar field, setting up more virtual calls to glean some insight. With sis' help I design some eye-catching posters to be displayed in strategic locations. I do a few dry runs for friends and family. For a mate’s rate, I agree to look over Karin’s 400 page PhD thesis ahead of its publication. My sister, now an established businesswoman herself, sends some official documentation to proofread and copy edit. 

Meanwhile, I’m still producing my own content and continuing in my role as editor-in-chief for Afropean.com. Not to mention all my other preoccupations. 

I’m quite run off my feet once my London visit rolls around. 

I once again keep it low key, spacing out meet-ups. I attend a talk, organised by my Morphē Arts family, on the intersection of Art, Theology and AI technologies. It's an intellectually and spiritually invigorating evening. 

It’s also a trip of reunions. I catch-up with an old school friend I haven’t seen for a quarter century. I reconnect with Uncle Lenny; our first off-line encounter since COVID-19. I’m especially nervous before that meeting. With his staunch anti-vaxxer stance earlier in the pandemic and our divergence over how to approach the problems at my former workplace, I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye with Lenny. He still has his way but the catch-up remains cordial, mainly because I do my best to avoid controversial subjects. 

Soundtrack: Volcano by Jungle