We haven’t worked together for
almost a decade, but Christina was my first – and best – work wife. She picked
me up when I fell backwards off the stage at the office Christmas party, and
let me crash on her sofa the following year when I lost all my possessions and
couldn’t get into my flat. We’ve travelled from Caracas to Kiev together and
still go on holiday when we can, children and partners allowing. When she got
married I was her bridesmaid.
But the defining moment when I
realised she was my work wife happened eight years ago when I was made
redundant from the company we worked at together. It was my first job, and I’d
been there almost four years. I kind of knew it was time to leave, and it
wasn’t the biggest shock in the world but, still, no one really expects that
conversation on a Monday afternoon. I wouldn’t have bought all my lunches for
the week from the supermarket next door an hour earlier if I had. After being told I was probably
losing my job, I went straight to the pub …
