This first-person essay draws upon a series of detailed conversations with Heath Kitson and William Lu, both of whom were professionals based in the Melbourne headquarters of ANZ Bank. Their accounts have been carefully edited and refined for conciseness and clarity, while still conveying the essence of their shared journey through professional upheaval, renewal, and discovery.
Heath Kitson: For seven years, I had the privilege of managing a team of talented data analysts at ANZ, overseeing projects that transformed vast amounts of information into meaningful business insights. My tenure came to an unexpected close just a couple of months ago, when I was laid off as part of a broader restructuring effort.
William Lu: My career at the bank extended even longer—eleven years in total—and during that time, I reported directly to Heath. I often used to tell friends, half-jokingly, that one of my personal aspirations was to one day be made redundant so I could finally enjoy a leisurely break. Yet when that moment actually arrived, it struck far deeper than I had anticipated. The loss, even if temporary and financially manageable, carried a strong emotional weight. A part of me contemplated whether I should attempt to secure another internal position. Nevertheless, as the consultation process came to its conclusion, I began to experience a powerful sense of finality. Like Heath, I recognized that the company’s evolving strategic direction meant that the innovative, stimulating projects we once loved had essentially reached their endpoint. It felt like the right moment for a personal and professional reset—a chance to pause, reflect, and reorient.
Kitson: Although both of us received generous severance packages, which provided financial stability for the time being, the psychological adjustment proved significant. For two decades I had worked almost continuously, rarely taking more than a week or two between roles. Suddenly finding myself with unstructured time felt both liberating and unsettling.
Lu: I have not yet plunged headfirst into searching for a new position. I trust in the professional network I’ve established and the relationships I’ve nurtured over the years. Those connections give me confidence that when the right opportunity arises, I’ll be ready to transition to a new environment—perhaps even somewhere warmer and more invigorating.
Kitson: Our outplacement program introduced us to a seasoned recruiter who had spent his career advising executives at similar crossroads. He told me quite candidly that job hunting could feel demoralizing if approached like a full-time job. His guidance stood out: do not spend eight exhausting hours a day scouring job boards or drafting applications, only to arrive at each interview depleted and dispirited. Instead, he advocated for balance—devote two focused hours each day to professional pursuits and use the remaining time to engage in activities that lift your mood and bring genuine enjoyment. By doing so, you appear before future employers not as someone burnt out by transition, but as someone renewed, energetic, and eager to contribute—a person radiating positivity, as if freshly returned from a rejuvenating holiday. His words reminded me that rest is not indulgence; it is preparation. A proper pause could make all the difference in securing my next meaningful role. In previous job changes, I had always felt pressure to start immediately, skipping the space for personal recuperation.
Lu: My own outplacement meeting was less emotionally resonant but still practical. The consultant outlined the various services available to me and recommended workshops to attend. Yet, sensing my need for mental distance, I requested time—a break until February—to regain clarity before tackling career logistics. The longest period I had ever taken off work was my three-week wedding and honeymoon, so this enforced pause, paired with the security of paid leave, felt unexpectedly precious.
Kitson: When I contemplated how to fill this new expanse of time, I knew I wanted the experience to be active and revitalizing. Sedentary relaxation did not appeal to me. I envisioned physical adventures—perhaps skiing among snow-covered peaks, hiking challenging trails, surfing rolling waves, or enrolling in intensive CrossFit retreats. My objective was simple: return stronger, healthier, and more energized than before. I had no desire to while away days idly, indulging in late nights and sluggish mornings.
Lu: Until now, Heath and I had never socialized outside the workplace. Following our layoffs, we were on a casual call when Heath mentioned his wish to travel but said he had no companion in mind. Coincidentally, my wife had also encouraged me to take a trip as a fresh start. The idea resonated immediately. As we tossed around possibilities, the concept of a surf camp in Bali surfaced—and it quickly captured our imaginations. I had surfed before, but the idea of spending an entire week immersed in it, refining skills daily under ideal conditions, gave me the final push to commit.
Kitson: Even if traveling together had not worked out, I probably would have gone alone. Still, a significant attraction of this particular camp was its strong sense of community—a shared environment where we’d meet people from all walks of life pursuing similar goals.
Lu: It didn’t take much persuasion to convince me, though I did briefly wonder whether traveling with my former manager might feel awkward. Yet our history was built on mutual respect and shared interests, so I trusted that the dynamic would remain comfortable.
Kitson: This morning marked our first surf session, and I had the rare feeling of complete mental release. My thoughts, which had been crowded with uncertainties back home, cleared with the rhythm of the waves. For the first time in weeks, I sensed that I would finally rest deeply that night.
Lu: I felt the same sense of escape. When your focus is fixed on balancing atop shifting water—and, to be frank, on avoiding the prospect of being swallowed by a wave—there’s little room for worries about corporate restructures or future job titles.
Kitson: Our families were actually relieved to see us embark on the trip; we had grown restless staying at home. The reaction from friends and former colleagues was a mixture of enthusiasm and envy. More than a few joked about joining us for the next adventure. The encouragement was good-natured, but it also underscored a wider hunger for renewal that many of us in mid-career feel.
Lu: Though it’s only our first day, I already know I could easily repeat this experience. Admittedly, organizing everything—the visas, SIM cards, logistics—required effort, but the moment I settled into my airplane seat, I felt an instant release of tension. Anxiety gave way to excitement.
Kitson: I’ve decided that if my next role allows for a flexible start, I’ll carve out time for another retreat like this. What I love about surf camp is the structured simplicity: the daily rhythm is prearranged, meals are provided, and all decisions revolve around the tides and weather. It’s a relief from the ordinary mental load of family holidays, where planning and caretaking dominate every day. Here, I can just be.
Lu: I completely agree. In our household, I’m typically the planner, the one juggling schedules and responsibilities. It’s refreshing to surrender that control and embrace flow instead.
Kitson: For anyone facing a similar period of transition, my advice would be to maintain some consistency in everyday routines but also to carve out a restorative break. Use that time not as an escape but as an intentional interlude—a way to regain perspective before re-entering the professional world.
If you’re living in the Asia-Pacific region and have your own story about navigating a layoff or career transition, consider sharing your experience. Your insights might illuminate the path for others who, like us, are learning that endings often mark the beginning of something unexpectedly fulfilling.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/boss-coworker-surf-camp-bali-after-bank-layoff-anz-australia-2025-12
