My husband was on six figures and we had the perfect life. Then, he lost his job and after applying to more than 50 roles, he’s now earning £12.50-an-hour. This is the brutal impact it’s had on our marriage

Last summer we vacationed at a friend’s mansion in the South of France. There were about 20 of us in total; A group of successful, middle-class couples and their children. I went with my daughters Rosie (17) and Bella (14).

We were given a gorgeous three-bedroom cottage to stay in and spent long days lounging by our friend’s beautiful pool. But even though it was very nice, something, someone was missing.

I wish my husband Matt could come with us, but he was laid off from a six-figure job in advertising. He felt humiliated and hurt and couldn’t face the inevitable work talk that came with the holiday.

He knew the couple who owned the French mansion as well as I did, and they were kind and generous people. Rosie and her sons were just babies when we met, and we had spent several holidays at their home in South Africa.

But Matt no longer felt comfortable with people who were rich and successful (in his mind), even if they were his old friends. This was the first real sign of how much our lives had changed. And it keeps changing: He hasn’t had a ‘decent’ job since.

Matt, 55, has never been a pessimist, but I’ve learned this: If you take away a man’s job, you take away his identity, his joy of life, and he becomes a shadow of his former self.

He tried to apply for more than 50 jobs for 18 months with no success. He has been working as a driver for the past three months, earning less than £12.50 an hour, as life becomes increasingly unstable.

For those unfamiliar with our financial situation, life on the surface still looks bright. Matt and I have been together for 22 years and have been married for 16 of those. We have a beautiful house in Sydenham, south-east London, which we own outright. Rosie, now 19, is studying for a media degree at Bournemouth University and Bella, 16, is excelling at the BRIT School of Performing Arts.

We also have a three-bedroom beach cottage on the Kent coast for weekend getaways. We are in good health and very solid as a family – or at least we were.

Matt losing his job has a catastrophic effect on everything: our relationship, his health, my bank balance, and our future retirement.

We are not alone. The latest data from the Office for National Statistics shows job vacancies in the UK have fallen steadily over the last 36 months, breaking the previous record of 16 months set during the 2008 global financial crisis.

A recent survey from the Bank of England found that businesses in the UK this summer cut jobs at the fastest pace in more than four years.

‘We are heading towards a jobs crisis like the 1980s,’ according to James Reed, chairman and chief executive of recruitment agency Reed.

‘As a result, many people will be left behind,’ he said. ‘If we see the evisceration of white-collar jobs it will affect millions of people, their living standards and the Government’s tax collection.’

Our own standard of living has definitely taken a hit. Luxurious holidays are a thing of the past.

Before Matt lost his job, we would holiday three times a year to places like Morocco, South Africa, Portugal, the Greek islands, Türkiye or the Canary Islands.

Julia wasn’t worried at first when Matt lost his job because she assumed he’d get a new job right away.

We try to keep up appearances – we do takeaways as a treat on the weekends – but I didn’t realize before how much the basics of running two homes add up. We are draining our savings and have had to drastically readjust our future plans.

We are delighted to know that our house is worth more than £1.2 million and the other is worth £375,000. But we never expected that we would have to use this capital to support us later in life.

Matt has paid 40 per cent tax for most of his working life and yet he is not eligible for government support because I am working, even though I am self-employed and my income fluctuates from year to year.

I could never have imagined this when we met. I was 34 and he was 32. He was self-confident and I liked that about him. After chatting online for a few weeks, we met for dinner and he went back to my apartment. We had such a beautiful night together that even if I never heard from him again, I knew I wouldn’t regret our paths crossing.

But I heard from him. Matt isn’t one to play games, so we moved in together within a year. We were both in the media and I knew Matt was something of a guru in the advertising world.

He flew to Tokyo or New York to pitch to potential clients, enjoyed lavish lunches and was frequently invited to gentlemen’s pamper days and team get-together weekends.

We both knew that advertising was much more turbulent than PR and television (my world), and he had changed jobs at least four times over the decades. However, he was shocked when he was laid off in January 2023 because he did not expect this to happen.

He was getting a month’s salary and that was it; He was alone.

Matt has paid 40 percent tax for most of his working life, but Julia is not eligible for government support because she works

As naive as it may seem, I wasn’t worried at first; I thought you would find another job immediately. He was constantly on LinkedIn, talking to recruiting consultants, networking with friends and professional contacts.

But most of the time he looked like a ghost. I would say 80 percent of the time there is no response at all. Matt wasn’t the only one surprised, I was too.

He even started applying for small jobs for which he was overqualified, telling them they were getting value for money, but no one wanted to know that.

He spent hours preparing for a Zoom presentation for an American company and they seemed genuinely impressed, but it didn’t result in an actual job offer either.

Because Matt is solution-oriented, he decided to become a driver in the high-net-worth industry within the first six months. He invested in a Mercedes E-Class that I wasn’t allowed to drive, then failed his Department of Public Transport driving test. He was told he needed medical attention, but he wasn’t doing well and he failed.

This was a low point for him, but he is nothing if not determined. After giving himself a medical MOT – after cutting out the booze and losing 3rd place – he passed his driving test at the second attempt.

Unfortunately, for reasons we cannot understand, there is a delay in issuing the license and Matt has been waiting over a year to receive it.

In the meantime, he sold his Mercedes and everything of value, including his watches.

Of course, the last two years have been like a battering ram for our marriage. I try to be supportive, but I can only do that because of Matt’s pride. Compassion is a passion killer, and I have been guilty of being insensitive at times.

When I heard how much the window cleaner at our holiday home earned (£50 an hour!), I jokingly told Matt that all you need is a mop and bucket – no need for a website or a fancy car – and off you go. Predictably, he went crazy.

If it were me, I’d even take the chance to work a low-paying job in retail or a restaurant or any other job that could get me out of the house.

My girlfriends also have a lot to say. For example, they told me that I shouldn’t have to pay £70 a week for a cleaner when Matt is ‘available’ and that he should do it.

This isn’t as crazy as it sounds: At a friend’s party, I chatted with a former wealthy banker who told me that since losing his job, he’d been working as a delivery driver before retraining as a parole officer and was really enjoying it.

This gave me hope; Maybe a career change would be best for Matt.

This guy talked about a delivery company that spies on drivers. This was the sign I needed.

After being unemployed for almost 18 months, Matt was willing to give it a try. And for once, he got the job. At first he was out the door at 6:30 a.m. handing out frozen fish, as dreary as that sounds. He was then delivering replacement mobility scooters. It was truly eye-opening to see how free equipment was treated by people; some were covered in urine or vomit and smelled of cigarette smoke.

He still drives for the same company but now delivers ingredients to butchers’ shops around Kent and Sussex. He has a routine where he works from 7.30am to 3.30pm, then some evenings he meets up with friends or goes to the bar for a few beers by himself. Even though this event scarred us both individually and as a couple, I am proud that we got through it.

Matt will probably say that I don’t think he’s trying hard enough to get a job, but at least all of this has taught me that we are very much defined by our careers.

All I care about is my husband whom I love so much. It pains me to see how Matt’s mental health has been affected and I know he feels ‘less than’ because he is no longer a high flyer.

I am thankful that we have no debt and have a plan for the future.

We didn’t intend to enjoy retirement this way, but at least we have each other.

Matt says

My life isn’t so rock ‘n’ roll anymore. I worked in advertising for just under thirty years, managing teams of up to 50 people and here I am today, earning £12.50 an hour.

I’ve had real anxiety over the past few years and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve asked myself if I’m a failure and pathetic.

For the first time in 25 years, more money was withdrawn from my bank limit. ‘Can I save myself from this?’ There were many sleepless nights when I wondered: The impact on my mental health has been more severe than I thought it would be.

I was also worried that Julia secretly thought I wasn’t trying hard enough to find a job and was annoyed at having to pay for all the shopping and holiday expenses.

My social life was effectively cancelled. I meet my friends and ask, ‘What are you doing right now?’ I wouldn’t have to formulate the answer to the question.

Right or wrong, our work defines us. It was hard for me to tell someone: ‘I’m a pickup truck driver.’

It was all a big shock to me. I was used to knowing how the world worked; people reported to me. Now here I am, I’m not in control anymore.

It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone, so I’ve set up a WhatsApp support group for friends in the same situation.

Julia is not involved in this. While he appreciates that life is hard for all of us, he actually has no way of knowing what it’s like emotionally and mentally to no longer be wanted in the workforce.

Ten years ago I would never have checked out anyone else. But I am very happy that I have changed in this respect. I do this because I care about others who are in the same boat as me.

I now work with a group of guys, all over 55, traveling around South East England. The upside is there is no admin stress. But the truth is that I will probably never make six figures again.

• As told to Samantha Brick