TRYING HARD ISN’T ALWAYS ENOUGH: What it’s really like to navigate work, redundancy and the benefits system

BY MELANY K.

I grew up in North Manchester. My dad worked in a factory, my mum did part-time admin for the council. We never had a lot, but we had enough. My parents were always clear about one thing - work hard at school, do better than us. I took that seriously. I did well in school, got my GCSEs, went to college and eventually built a career in operations. I became an Operations Coordinator by my late twenties. For a while, it felt like I’d made it out of the kind of instability that shaped my early years.

But here’s the thing no one really tells you when you’re from a working-class background it’s not just about getting through the door. It’s also about staying in the room and getting a seat at the table which is hard.

I’ve been made redundant twice. Both times, I was praised in performance reviews. Each time, I saw other colleagues, mostly men and usually more middle-class, either protected from the cuts or offered different roles. I’ve had to fall back on benefits, something I never wanted. I’ve always been proud. I’ve always worked. But after the second redundancy my savings were gone and the cost of everything such as rent, food, heating had gone through the roof.

Being on benefits is painted like some sort of soft landing. It’s not. It covers the basics and just barely. I got into debt trying to stay afloat. Even though I wasn’t spending on anything frivolous, it was a slow bleed - one unpaid bill turning into another.

When I started applying for jobs again, I noticed how competitive everything had become. Even roles I was overqualified for. My confidence had taken a hit. When you’ve been pushed out more than once, even with a good record, you start wondering Is it me? I couldn’t ignore the patterns. My accent, my name, being one of the few women of colour in a team mostly made up of White men. It adds up. It wears you down.

Also returning to work often meant taking a pay cut. Employers seem to know when you're desperate and they take advantage. But I took what I could. I didn’t want to stay on benefits. I didn’t want the shame that sometimes comes with it, especially when people make you feel like you’re not doing enough, even when you’re doing everything you possibly can.

And once you're back in work, the support drops off. No help with childcare if I needed it, no chance to build savings again and certainly no progression plan. It’s like you're just expected to be grateful. But all it means is you stay stuck working, scraping by, still just one crisis away from losing it all again.

People talk about social mobility in the UK as if it's just about education and motivation. But I did everything I was supposed to. I worked hard. I got good feedback. I showed up. And still, I’ve had to start over more than once, always from further behind than my colleagues.

What might have helped me is having stronger protections in place during the redundancy process. It often feels like there's no real accountability or fairness in how those decisions are made. Having some kind of oversight or appeal process could have made a difference, especially for people like me who are more likely to be overlooked or seen as "less essential" despite our contributions.

I also could have benefitted from proper re-skilling or upskilling support. Not just being sent to a basic job centre workshop, but real access to training linked to growing industries, where there’s a chance of secure, long-term employment. If I’d had the chance to transition into a new sector with support, it might not have meant such a steep drop in pay or confidence.

Mental health support is another thing that often gets ignored when you're unemployed. Redundancy doesn’t just affect your bank balance it affects how you see yourself. I went through weeks of feeling ashamed, anxious and unsure of my future. If there had been mental health services connected to the job-seeking process, I think I could’ve faced it all with a bit more resilience.

On top of that, benefits need to actually reflect the cost of living. Universal Credit doesn’t stretch far enough, especially in places like Manchester where rents keep climbing but wages and support don’t. The system feels designed to keep you just about surviving, never stable enough to build again.

Finally, we need to take bias in the workplace seriously. It's not enough to talk about diversity in recruitment - what about progression? What about pay gaps? What about who gets offered development and who gets let go first? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that, despite always being told I’m doing a good job, I’ve never progressed as fast as others.

I’m still working. Still trying. Still proud. But I’ve stopped buying into the idea that working hard automatically means you’ll get ahead. Not when class, gender, race, age and background still silently shape so much of what’s possible.

I love my city. Manchester has grit. It’s where the labour movement started, where industry and resistance both have roots. But it’s also a place where working-class people are being priced out, pushed to the edges, and made to feel like opportunity is for someone else. We deserve better and not just those of us who’ve been made redundant. Everyone does.