Knowing how to work it

I used to be young and a bit useless.  Sometimes I look back on those days with nostalgia - you know, before I became old and a bit useless.

I entered the workforce like many of my era.  My first job was berry picking, aged twelve.  I knew what to do in that job, more or less, because I’d come from a household with an adult in paid work.  At that time, jobs for young people could still be found.  Things were changing, though, and got radically worse in the 90s. Unemployment surged, and in the years that followed, there were plenty of times I couldn't find anything.

Struggling to get work was demoralising, but at least when I did, I had the foundations.  I wasn’t great at thinking for myself - I'd mostly had jobs where the boss said 'jump' and the workers asked 'how high?' - but I knew how to turn up on time and do as I was told. 

I knew these things because I'd been shown.  I could do them because I didn't have, say, a neurodisability that made it harder to process information.  My literacy and numeracy were OK.  I lived within biking distance of my work, and I had a bike.  I could see a link between working and getting ahead - stuff like buying a house - because that used to be a thing.

But I won't deny, those early days were bruising - stumbling, bumbling, struggling for confidence - even though luck and the labour market have smiled on me since. I've always worried for my own kids; wanted them to have a better transition into adult life.

So when my older son left school and had his gap year, I went into full-on protective mum mode.  I remembered how I'd felt when I didn't know how to do a CV, or what to say in an interview - in the rare event I got one.  My son was in a good position from the start. He lived with adults who'd got through their education and had jobs.  But that alone wasn't enough.  I helped him with his own CV, got him some teeny jobs here and there to learn about the workforce, and drilled him on the kinds of things an interviewer asks.  He got knocked back a few times, then eventually landed a nightshift at Maccas.

I remember laughing when he said 'God bless nepotism', and adding, 'Hey, sweetie.  It's also cultural capital'.  

Back in the day, we had this idea of apprenticeship.  I don't just mean apprenticeships in the formal sense.  I mean the notion that adults are responsible for helping young people find their place in adult life; pushing them a little, sure, but also inducting them, showing them the ropes.  Accepting they won't always get it right, and will have the odd brain fart - because, believe it or not, no one’s born knowing what to do on the Maccas nightshift.

Now we're having another round - yet another round - of the youth unemployment debate. Some believe that if we punish them enough, young people will simply, magically, take their place in the world of work.  Well, sorry. If you look back on when you were 18, and you somehow think you were self-made bootstraps got-all-the-answers awesome, you're dreaming.   

If you’re prepared to be honest, then you, like me, were a bit useless.  The difference was cultural capital.  

  

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