The irony of promotion

After many years of banging my head against the corporate wall, I was promoted to director at a well-known European investment bank. This was more a relief than anything else, but I was naturally delighted at "making the grade". I thought back to my days at Nat West where a spotty teenager first made his entrance into the City of London. I was more or less written off by my betters in those days - I was common, after all, and from the eastern counties. "Essex cheap labour" was one description to sum up all the people who came from Havering, Thurrock and the Southend region. The old school tie still reigned in the City and most people's view of me was down their rather nasal noses. So, not bad for a kid from Ockendon with little education and an outside toilet.
However, there is a shadow looming. Restructuring is in the air and the word on the strasse is that HQ will move in. One or two of the leading players in the world in which I operate are rather anti-"Englander". The irony of all ironies would be to lose one's job in the year in which I finally get my promotion.
We'll have to sit tight and wait...