“Failure isn’t falling down. Failure is not getting up again.” This advice came from a friend and colleague who knew big time what it was like to come unstuck. He made the front pages not just of the business news, but of the main sections of all the newspapers. He found himself in a position where he risked being a corporate fall-guy, his name and reputation destroyed, his ‘friends’ no longer taking his calls, cast into the outer darkness and expected to crawl away and hide.

Naturally, he came out fighting, because that’s what he’s like. His firm, which thought it could outspend and outlast him, had a nasty surprise, and he was ultimately vindicated, his good name restored, and he went on to much greater success elsewhere.

By comparison, the relatively anonymous thousands of corporate casualties of the ‘restructuring’ going on at a number of the larger firms in recent times have it easy. They don’t need to explain away individual shortcomings, let alone a bad press. At times like this, it’s the market, stupid. Good people are getting laid off not because they weren’t talented, hard working and successful, but because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bad luck.

But having had the bad luck, what’s the best way forward? Most people’s reaction is to take a quick look around for any immediate re-entry possibilities – the ‘low hanging fruit’ that might provide a quick fix, even if the package isn’t perfect and the firm not playing in the Premiership. If that doesn’t work, they take a break. Decompressing at this point, spending a little – but not too much – of that exit package to do something you’ve always wanted to, is not a bad idea.

The test comes when you get back from the Galapagos or the Amazon and a few weeks of decompressing turn into a few months. Another friend of mine, having been very successful at a large firm, was then headhunted to a relative newcomer to investment banking. He subsequently found himself the victim of a change of strategy when his new employer, a large Continental European universal bank, decided it did not need to be quite so universal after all, and investment banking was de-emphasised.

He spent a year out of the market, but kept in touch with people, met up with his former colleagues and competitors, did the rounds of the headhunters and generally worked the circuit, until eventually he got a break. In the meantime, he did a serious wine course, took up competitive cycling again – something he had not done since student days – and learnt to fence. When he came back to work, he was leaner, fitter and healthier, as well as having a sense of perspective after a period that would test the stamina and resilience of any of us.

And that’s the key. Even after a year of being down on his luck, he was still full of energy, enthusiasm and self belief. His prospective new bosses, when they interviewed him, found someone they would look forward to seeing each morning.

The investment banking world is one which so often responds to you directly in proportion to your expectation of its response. Go in looking tired, humble and beaten up, and you’ll be judged by first appearances. Go in smiling, confident and keen, and doors will open. We’ve all done it for the firm, fronting a cheeky pitch for a piece of business we probably shouldn’t win, but the real test is doing it for ourselves when we’re down on our luck. When the going gets tough, the tough keep smiling. Give up, and the result is self-fulfilling.

David Charters’ latest book, The Ego Has Landed, is published by Elliott and Thompson, price £9.99.