On the first bank holiday of May 2023 I had the opportunity to perform a really special gig. Reverend and the Makers had an incredible pop up shop at Sheffield Meadowhall. It was created to support the launch of their new album ‘Heatwave in the Cold North’ and the floor was opened and shared with musicians and poets, of which I was very lucky to be included.
The album has a track called “ Letter to my 21 year old self “ and there is a wonderful instagram account which I would recommend taking a look at, filled with letters from a connected exhibition a few months ago . The song is a real ear worm and an anthem for any age and I keep thinking about it, especially after hearing it live.
In my set I performed a short poem filled with mantra’s that are for me now and the future. I also performed a poem about how I wasn’t a brave soul at that age. ‘I loved to dance, but I was scared of breaking rules’. Although, not consciously chosen for this reason, eye contact was mentioned in both of these poems.
"And for god's sake make eye contact with those glances!" "I'd get home with change from a tenner Still having not made eye contact, with that one fella"
Eye contact is something I was not good at age 21. I wouldn’t have even noticed someone trying to catch my eye. Sorry if you did. I would have been looking at my shoes or over shoulders assuming you liked literally any other person in the room.
I turned 21 in 1997. I had a head full of imagination that I would never share with anyone. I had no concrete plan for my future, beyond knowing I had to find a job. I was history graduate who didn’t want to teach, having seen first hand as the daughter of teachers how hard work that could be. But, just to double check my instincts, I did give a PGCE a go post graduation but it re-affirmed what I already knew. The administration of teaching overshadowed the parts I was interested in.
My 21 year old self had to start writing a lot of letters. I filled in every application form I could find. I wrote en spec letters to places that were not obviously actively advertising graduate jobs. I travelled for interviews and job fairs across the country. I got letters back. Rejection after rejection. I applied for well over 100 graduate training type jobs. I took most of this rejection well but the one from the chicken processing business. It seemed odd to tell me I lacked relevant experience when they knew very few graduates would have chicken processing experience. None of the rejections were my dream job beyond earning my own money so no rejection was truly heartbreaking. I look back now and realise it is kind of heartbreaking that age 21 I didn’t have a dream job. A job was my dream and ‘I just need one to say yes' was my mantra.
Between writing application forms, I went to endless indie and comedy gigs around North Wales and the North West. Leeds and V festivals. They were the places that made me feel most alive. I worked in a care home and a special educational needs school for money during that time. One interviewer (London) told me I would be ‘too caring’ to work as a recruitment consultant on account of this experience. I remember thinking it was an odd tactic to drag me all the way to London to tell me this. I replied that to work in a care home takes huge strength and diplomacy in dealing with people and their families at the end of life. It struck me that was in fact much harder a job than placing people in office jobs for commission. It still is true. I rejected their invite to a second interview. I wasn’t a complete expert on trusting my instincts at age 21, but I knew that people who saw ‘caring’ as a disadvantage were not my people.
Aged 22 I eventually got two letters with an offer. One in London. One in Manchester. Manchester was selected and I never looked back (in anger *winks to imaginary camera*) from that letter.
If I could write her a letter now I wouldn’t fill it with advice, as I know 21 year old me would simply not take the advice. The biggest learning I have found in life, is that people do not take advice they are not looking for. My primary source of research based evidence for that statement is myself.
I think I would maybe just send the photo above and hope it would help younger me hang on through some stuff that was on my plate and still to come. It would let me know that creative urge in the back of my imagination will eventually become real. I’d be pleased with that. Really pleased.
Love this Lisa - gorgeous x
Thank you for these words from my 22 year old self who is struggling to find a job I actually like