The Saturday job at the chemist provided extra work throughout the holidays which in turn provided me with the cash required to clothe myself as a wannabe hippy in flared jeans and a selection of groovy cheesecloth tops and t-shirts. In a parallel life I was studying for ‘A’ levels, spending copious amounts of time in the art room, wading around in rivers on geography field work or having a wonderful time being properly introduced to Shakespeare by one Mr Herman Peschmann, a diminutive yet cantankerous German who resembled a shell-less tortoise. He had a slight problem pronouncing the word ‘three’ so we spent every lesson forgetting where we were in the text just to hear him repeat ‘Act Three; Scene Three’ which just happened to be on page thirty-three. To our immature sixth-form minds this was hilarious but he got us through those exams and left us with a lifelong appreciation of the bard.
As if the pressures of the looming exams weren’t enough, we were subjected to our career interviews. Remember those? You’d be ushered into a makeshift office the size of a broom cupboard (come to think of it, it was the broom cupboard) where an earnestly whiskered elderly woman with bad breath wearing a beige home knitted cable cardigan and flat sandals shuffled a few pamphlets and talked about secretarial college. Or the army.
In days of yore it wasn’t the natural progression to opt for three years at some ivy clad institution slogging your way through every optic in the student union bar and then take a gap year funded by your cash flashing parents – it was still perfectly acceptable to go out to work – and what’s more, there were actual jobs available for those with an inherent work ethic but fewer theoretical credentials.
With the naivety of youth and a head swimming with implausibly grand ideas of becoming the next Mary Quant, buyer for Harrods or Sunday supplement editor-in-chief I settled in front of Miss Careers-Advice who suggested sweetly that as I had no intention of further education I should definitely think about becoming a secretary. After my dreary filing experience at the bookshop any notion of admin filled me with horror. I didn’t like to tell her that I didn’t want to BE a secretary, I intended to HAVE one. I left that broom cupboard with a handful of her leaflets and deposited them swiftly into the nearest bin.
I began to panic a bit when several friends suddenly decided that they wanted to be teachers and signed up for various universities. Perhaps I ought to look for something beyond the sixth form, if only to keep the adults in my life from asking what I’d be doing post exams. I trawled through volumes of college prospectuses and finally found what appeared to be a course tailor-made to my lofty, fast-track ambitions. A one year diploma in periodical journalism (an academic year of course means September to June – things were looking better by the minute) at the London College of Fashion in Central London. Marvellous! All my boxes ticked and a year swanning around Oxford Circus: what more could a girl ask for.
I applied, was interviewed and turned up on my first day where I quickly realised that this was going to be the longest year of my life. My fellow course mates, most of whom owned a Chanel handbag, seemed to be treating this as a state-funded finishing school opportunity – a respectable interlude between exclusive boarding school and getting married to a City banker then heading off to the Shires to produce multiple offspring. However, I happily discovered a couple of kindred spirits – one of whom transferred to St Martin’s art college after the first term – leaving me and Val to endure and make the most of whatever came our way.
I have to admit that we probably didn’t embrace our time there quite as we should. We spent considerable time in the nearby Phoenix pub bemoaning our fate over half a Shandy before being dragged unwillingly around all the London fashion shows by Miss Jackson who in her time had been a Fleet Street fashionista but was by now retired and well past her sell-by date. While most of our peers were swooning at the sight of the editor of Vogue in the front row and possibly waiting to prostrate themselves in front of her, Val and I were frantically writing our reports and working out the quickest way back to Oxford Circus to be the first in line for cheese on toast in the canteen before the dreaded evening sessions began. These sessions involved learning a version of shorthand (T-line) which I never got to grips with (smacked of admin) and which I failed dismally. Then there were the cosmetic science lessons where all I can remember is producing my own hand cream using something called Isopropyle. A word that for some reason has stuck in my memory all these years but which I’ve never had cause to use. The only useful journalistic training we gained was a block of six weeks taken at the London College of Printing. Based at the Elephant and Castle – a less than salubrious area of south London which came as a shock to the haute couture brigade who I don’t think had ever ventured across the Thames, this was where we learned from working journalists about editing, deadlines, printing and the reality of working on a daily paper. We created our own dummy newspapers, selected stories, set up interviews, had our work rejected. It was fast, fun and furious and Val and I loved it which made returning to the fluffy world of fashion even harder but at least we knew where we didn’t want to work come the summer.
And, as the saying goes, nothing is ever wasted. As the end of the summer term approached, job vacancies trickled in to our tutor at the college. We were encouraged to go for as many interviews as we could. While the Edina and Patsy’s of this world held out for a position on one of the glossies some of us decided to have a bash at anything. So it came to pass that a position presented itself in the press office of the John Lewis Partnership, based at their flagship store a block away from Oxford Circus. I went along for an interview, they liked me; I liked them. It was settled. I said goodbye to the chemist’s forever. I was going to be a partner.
Oh, and by the way, for anyone who has ever thought that the characters of Edina and Patsy in the sitcom ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ are way too over the top, please let me reassure you that they aren’t. I have known people exactly like them – I only wish it had been me and not Jennifer Saunders who had created them. Here’s a hilarious reminder:
I was entranced by this. I love look-backs at teenage life and it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently – how youth is sold as being this amazing time of your life, but of course teenagers tend to be hampered by the fact that they don’t know themselves as well as they will later on, and don’t know as much about the world as they will later. And they have to make decisions! But as with you, it seems that things have a way of turning out for the best.
I think having an optimistic outlook on life helps too! Life wouldn’t be half as fun if we all came equipped with the acquired wisdom we end up with would it? – although at times, it would be darned useful 🙂
Beautifully written fun take on a period that was probably pretty fraught. Jennifer Saunders may have done the sitcom, but this series of yours is very entertaining read.
Kind words indeed. Thanks Derrick.
The saga of the careers advisor rings very loud bells. I think the deputy principal of our 6th Form College was my advisor and she seemed to have as little idea as me. I ended up in university relieved not to have to take a decision for 4 more years. When I was a teenager flares were usually crimplene, a walking static shock for anybody who came close. I think the best advice I was given was ‘do what you enjoy’. I tried my best. How I ended up in banking is a mystery lost in the mists of time. Perhaps I should have joined the chemists.
I think that’s great advice. I wonder how many people really discover something they enjoy straight away or whether we all learn to enjoy what we end up doing.
Crimplene flares? Oh dear. 🙂
For me, the crowning moment of “Absolutely Fabulous” was where Patsy sold off Saffron at a Moroccan street market.
Haha… love this! My career adviser had two options for girls at the Grammar School
1. Teacher (for the uni students)
2. Secretary (for the rest)
Naturally I wanted to be neither. I wanted to be an air hostess (too young) or some job that included travel. Foreign travel. I even contemplated joining the WRENS. Until I found out that it was mostly clerical work at home or nursing.
I became an au pair. Not known for financial gain. But I did travel.
There you go – countrywide careers advice. Two of my school friends ended up as teachers. One went into nursing after turning down a place at SOAS much to the disgust of our geography teacher. She has never regretted her decision.
Travelling back then was intrepid and exciting – not only from the perspective of youth, but because it was more difficult and challenging – no internet, no phones. Much more fun! Did you manage to pick up any languages? If I have any regrets at all, it’s that I’m not fluent in a second language.
I took Latin, French and German at ‘O’ level and used the French in Switzerland when working as an au pair, but never became fluent in any other language, despite another spell abroad in Norway! Travelling was all I wanted to do 🙂
My career advisor suggested I become a clerk – I would have been dead in 6 months. Very enjoyable series
Thanks for sticking with it!
Hmm, clerk sounds dire too, doesn’t it. 🙂
Oh I laughed and cringed in equal amounts Jenny! And watched all of the AbFab duo with equal parts of amusement and horror…… I’ve also known the real versions! Isn’t it wonderful how, despite our ignorance of everything we are somehow led to a fortunate outcome. It never ceases to amaze me, the twists and turns that lead from there to here. Really, this is a wonderful series!
Thank you Pauline – better to look back and laugh than look back in anger 🙂 At the time I thought that year was never going to end – which it did – in one of our hottest summers on record. I went straight from college to the new job and that’s one of the sensory memories I have – the heat of the commute!
Great series, Jenny! Has seriously reminded me of some of my misbegotten youth. I am one of those who joined the army – and put myself through uni that way – totally against my parents’ wishes. They were both WW II veterans and were worried that I would end up in combat. With the hubris of youth, I totally pooh-poohed them. Then guess what? Peacekeeping duty in Cyprus. And not so much peacekeeping as peacemaking. I started to realize that my parents knew a few things after all. 🙂
Thanks Lynette – happy to have stirred up some old memories for you!
Isn’t that the case though – and now we’re parents we are doing exactly the same probably. Life wouldn’t be much fun if we had all the answers – and to be honest about my own situation, the college year wasn’t particularly arduous, just lacked interest for me and I’m not much good once I’ve lost focus 🙂
This is great, Jenny! “My fellow course mates, most of whom owned a Chanel handbag, seemed to be treating this as a state-funded finishing school opportunity – a respectable interlude between exclusive boarding school and getting married to a City banker then heading off to the Shires to produce multiple offspring.” Priceless! Great series, my friend. I never had a career advisor in college. They just kicked us out into the world, once they got our money of course. 🙂
Haha Jill, glad you enjoyed! I have a sneaking suspicion that you know exactly the kind of course mates I was lumbered with. The Parisians have a nick-name for them – BCBG (bon chic, bon genre) which says it all, I think 🙂
I liked all the details of this post, including your sense of humor and your trepidation, too. Honestly, this is a whole other world from where I went and what I did, so it was very intriguing. I liked your recounting going to the local watering hole and your commisserating with each other, too.
Thanks Robin. Yes, we did several of our assignments sitting in that pub, too. No computers in those days, obviously, so everything was handwritten unless you could be bothered to lug a portable typewriter around. (I couldn’t). 🙂
As usual Jenny incredible writing! I do hope you will continue with this series. I too was interviewed and told I should become a primary school teacher which was the last thing I wanted to be. I was determined to become a lawyer/advocate because I was entranced by L.A Law…and then ended up in investment banking…
That’s so kind of you Yolanda – thanks. Any chance of hearing about your experiences into a career?
Watch this space – there are probably more revelations to come 😉
Great work Jenny, excellently narrated. I think we went to parallel schools. Mine lost all interest in me once I’d decided not to go to uni, and the visiting careers advisor had less of a clue than I had – which was nothing.
Will save the AbFab clip for later 🙂
Thanks Roy. From your comment and some of the others here it seems like we were all in the same boat. And I don’t think careers advice has changed much in all these years judging by the character who comes into the school where I now work and delivers advice without having ever experienced any of it. 😄
Jenny, this is fantastic treat, you took me right back to my school/college days, especially those ‘productive’ career interviews. Haha…’bad breath’…reminds me of my maths teacher, we had her after break and when she leant over me to help me with some problem or other, her coffee/fag breath had me practically falling off my chair 😮
Were we all given the same advice in those days? Secretary or teacher? Why was that? I couldn’t wait to get the heck out after my O levels despite my year tutor trying to pursuade me to stay on, but of course after 3 years I ended up returning to full time education and taking a one year diploma at college in business administration, and glad I did. I was supposed to have 2 A levels to get in but I was allowed in on my work experience and ‘potential’. Things are so different today aren’t they? Your college adventures come to life here, brimming with the energy and yes, innocence (even though we would not have said so at the time) of youth.
Love this: ‘In days of yore it wasn’t the natural progression to opt for three years at some ivy clad institution slogging your way through every optic in the student union bar and then take a gap year funded by your cash flashing parents.’ Here here!!!
You have a brilliant way of putting things Jenny, you had me laughing out loud so many times, taking me back to those relatively innocent and crazy times. And as for Ad Fab, well, love that show. I can well imagine that you knew a few just like them, and what wonderful other stories you must have up your excellent writer’s sleeve ready and waiting to share with us!
This post is, in two words, Absolutely Fabulous Darling…oops, sorry, that’s three 😀 xx
Well, thank you sweetie – isn’t it about time those pink hot pants came out of mothballs?
I think that we probably had more choice, however much the government and the educationalists try to tell us otherwise. You could get a decent job/career without a degree, and there were more practical courses or courses that were directly work related. And then of course, there were the day- release opportunities. I’m not sure I believe that all these so called apprenticeships the government keep heralding actually provide work places at the end of their term. Is that being cynical?
So happy I got you laughing – thanks as always for reading my ramblings, Sherri 😉
Haha…definitely darling, but maybe wait until it warms up a little 😀
I agree with you Jenny. If you are cynical, then so am I. But you can be sure of one thing, I will always be here to read your ‘ramblings’, or ‘fabulous stories’ as I prefer to call them. Have a great weekend 🙂 xx
Really enjoyed this as you caught the spirit of the age, especially with regard to “Careers” advice. I think we had the same woman in Devon, but we were offered secretarial, hairdressing or nursing. Absolutely no ambitiion, no mention of going on to do a degree or anything else. In time – our own, in our 20’s – all my friends bar one, went on to a degree, and a range of very successful careers. At least the refusal to take us seriously made us determined to continue our education. How things have changed with everyone being urged to take totally unsuitable degrees which lead nowhere and prepare them for nothing, leaving them with a sense of entitelment and a huge amount of debt.
I came across some of the Ab Fab girls when I did PR in Kensington and Knightsbridge. They really were marking time waiting for THE MAN to appear.
Yes, a sense of entitlement with no experience or people skills. We could do a lot more for our students if there was room in our narrow curriculum to let them experience a few things before letting them loose. School trips are few and far between – we used to be taken out all over the place to see what went on in the wider world. We even had a trip once to Fords at Dagenham!
Of course I’ve now turned full circle because I reckon if you’ve got good admin skills you’ll never be unemployed – likewise hairdressing. Have you ever known an out of work hairdresser? Everyone needs a haircut 😄
Another enjoyable read. And Joanna and I also enjoyed the video clips … it took us a minute to come with the name Joanna Lumley … we know her from a film that we both really like … Cold Comfort Farm, have you seen it? Don’t be offended when I say that we both know when we’re watching ‘British humor.’ That’s a positive statement – and these clips didn’t disappoint. Thanks for a much needed distraction this evening. Keep the entertainment coming. D
I have to confess to not having seen Cold Comfort Farm – I’ll have to catch up with it – I see it was a BBC production so it should be quite easy to find. Joanna Lumley is often referred to as ‘a National Treasure.’ She is a very versatile actress who has been in many varied roles. She is also a great campaigner – recently she fought for the right for Ghurka soldiers to settle in Britain.
And of course I’m not offended – I know that British humour has its own quirkiness – I’m just happy that it can be shared across the miles. Similarly, much American comedy travels well – our favourites over the years have been Mash, Cheers, Rhoda and Taxi. There are others, of course, but these few immediately spring to mind.
We must be of ‘an age,’ for the favorites you list are all very well known to me and had been part of my early adulthood. Joanna and I especially enjoyed MASH. But, you know, perhaps we’ve all matured since then … for when we recently viewed an old episode of MASH it seemed quite ‘silly.’ Perhaps that says more about me than it does about the series? D
We encountered a similar experience when we watched a little bit of the Monty Python live tour on TV. It hardly raised a smile yet these were the old and well known sketches being trotted out for all us devoted fans. Hugely disappointing, but then I think humour moves on – as we must too 😀
You are so right, Jenny: nothing is ever wasted. And this post–along with the video clips, especially Cold Comfort Farm–was rich with details. Career guidance counselors in America could be very helpful, oblivious, or downright damaging. I’m surprised more of the students they worked with didn’t slam their heads in their lockers. 😉
Haha, I have a great visual of a line of lockers with heads crushed against them. Thanks for that, Marylin. 😃
Very enjoyable read Jenny (even though I missed the other two, I think I was in Cuba). I wished I had stayed on into the sixth form. I was all set to but decided when I went back for one day, after the school holidays, that all of my friends had gone and the ones that were left, I didn’t really know, so I threw the towel in! That was the first mistake of my career. I wanted to be an air hostess but had to wait two years to apply; so I spent that time hairdressing because it was the only job I could get quickly, without a career plan. I figured that I would be dealing with the public which would give me good practice for my chosen career; only to find out later that I was too short anyway, to be an air hostess!
The hairdressing didn’t last very long, I didn’t do an apprenticeship, and after that, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I had better not do a blog on MBC because it is a catalogue of disasters, culminating in me being a domestic technician (cleaner!) in my middle fifties.
A catalogue of disasters would probably make for very good reading though, Kay! I never knew there was a height requirement for an air hostess – I’d probably be too tall, would I?
There’s nothing wrong with hairdressing- the person who cuts my hair is self employed and has sustained her career through bringing up two children, she is never short of work and is a joy to see every six weeks or so for a chat. I’ve known her for over twenty years. If I had a daughter I might be tempted to encourage her down that route – better than being in debt all your life after a government loan for a degree that doesn’t necessarily provide you with your dream job.
How interesting. I don’t think there was any careers advice at my school. Or at least if there was, it was for the ones who weren’t going to university, which the vast majority were.
Fast forward three years though and my careers advisor at university suggested I go into management which I thought sounded utterly boring, and, I’d told her I wanted to be a journalust. Er journalust. Nope, it won’t let me write the right word. Too much Ed and Pats on the brain. And what happened when I was in PR I decided to go I to management as managers got more money. Now if only I’d listened to my careers person I could have done that to start with. And ended up like all the other managers who can’t write …
It always amazes me that anyone could suggest that you go from however many years in academic study straight to management, as if it’s something that can be learned from a text book. Management involves inter-personal skills which can only be honed by experience – some of which has to be on the receiving end. Organisational skills may well have been gleaned while studying but to translate those to a work place situation and be successful at it takes time.
And yes, many people can’t write or spell – including our educators. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a science teacher write the word seperate on the whiteboard. Does my head in.
I don’t recall getting any career advice in high school. Instead, I had an English teacher derail my plans to go to nursing school. In her ‘recommendation,’ she wrote that I “did not have the stick-to-itiveness to make it thru college.’ After a few years working as a junior steno or clerk, I did go to college part time. I got my 2-year degree after 10 years (was raising a family at the same time). Then I got my 4-year degree 8 years later (was raising a family and working at the same time). So, who didn’t have stick-to-itiveness? I had the last laugh and 15 years in radio news and 11 in newspaper reporting that I really enjoyed before I became a English Language Arts teacher in 2004.
Follow your own path. It sounds like you did and I’m glad you’re happy. 😉
Judy – I’m so sorry I didn’t reply sooner – your comment seems to have slipped through my notifications net!
I think there is something to be said for returning to education a little later. Having a break, seeing what’s available can be just what we need to focus on a goal and pick the right route of study for us. And I definitely think your advice of following your own path is the right one. Aside from that dastardly bookshop, I’ve enjoyed every job I’ve ever done.
A great story! One thing I often realize is the sentiment, “if only we’d known then what we know now…” But of course those events shaped the people we’ve since become, eh?
And the story continues, of course. Who we are now will shape who we’ll soon become.
And yet, I can feel myself turning into my mother, Maurice.
Thanks for back tracking on my posts – it’s always much appreciated.