Coventry, 1983. Cold, miserable and nothing much doing for a young fella like me. I got the bus into the City Centre. I’d walk home. Money didn’t grow on trees – or bus tickets.
Off I went to the Job centre. To search the job boards in the hope someone would want me. Despite one in five adult men being unemployed. The unemployment rate in my home city sat at 20% - double the National average at the time.
I’ve read youngsters have got it tough these days. I’m sure it’s true. No doubt. But you should have seen what it was like back in 1983.
I’m not disputing it’s tough out there for young folk. Finding work, buying a house and earning a decent living. Recent data analysis shows young ‘uns face a tougher time than, say, my generation, decades ago.
The reports tell us buying a home now requires a mountain of cash taking decades to save, and entry-level wages haven’t kept pace with house prices or rent, so young people are having to put their entire lives on hold just to get by.
I do sympathise, I do. But let’s get real for a moment. Back in 1983, when I caught a bus into Coventry City Centre, I’d finished school, been laid off from the job I had and had average educational qualifications.
In other words, no prospects, no way to achieve any aspirations I might have. And by the way, three kids in my school leaving year went to university. Three. They were the posh kids. The rest? A tiny number got apprenticeships. But the famous “Motor City” collapsed, 55,000 jobs disappeared. Some other posh kids got jobs with their dad’s who had their own business. The rest of us? Go and find a job. Somewhere.
The chances of us getting anywhere near buying a house? None. The chances of us saving for a house? None, most of us couldn’t get work.
My visit to the Job Centre? In those days I met the perfect description for young, not at all gifted and skint.
I searched the job boards like a prospector looking for gold. Nothing doing. Next I spoke to a lady behind in one of the booths. She sent me back to the boards. Still sod all. And when I say sod all, I mean, I wasn’t a cleaner, or a bus driver. With a big sigh, I left the centre.
Across the road, an old building stood there with a big sign on the outside. Army Careers. I crossed the road and went in. Eighteen years old and with no choice. Make no mistake, I’m a proud veteran today. But, back then? My choices were limited.
Here’s how it went. I met a burly recruiting sergeant.
‘Thinking of joining us, lad?’
I wasn’t, not right then, but I didn’t want to be rude. ‘Er, yeah, I reckon so.’
‘Good! What do you fancy doing?’
‘Er, helicopter pilot?’
He smiled, in the way a parent does when a child is being daft. ‘We can talk about that, anything else?’
I didn’t have a clue. So, I thought for a moment and struck gold. ‘Er, a tank driver?’
I earned another smile. ‘We can talk about that, as well. Now, how old are you?’
I told him and he started filling forms in. I’d have to sit exams called the “Battery of Five” which made me honk. I’d got rid of doing exams when I left school, or so I thought.
I passed the exams and the medical. Then, I had a two-day break at Sutton Coldfield for selection. We got screamed and shouted at, spent the whole day in the gym, running around the barracks or watching videos. At the end, I got given a green slip and some travel money. ‘You’re in the army now’, they said.
And off I went to someplace called Deepcut, in someplace called Surrey.
When I passed basic training, it sits as the proudest day of my life from those years. What a feeling. A serving soldier. It turned out, things back at home got worse. More jobs gone. More unemployment. More poverty. Me? My life became an adventure – with lots of boot polish, running with heavy equipment, shooting at targets and learning to swear – like a trooper.
I do feel sorry for young folk today. It shouldn’t be so bloody tough. I acknowledge people reading this will be saying: Listen, you old fart, you wouldn’t believe quite how hard it is today…“ I know, I get it. I hope it gets better, I really do.
I’m in a position now, where I get to hire people. I try my best to find young folk who need the opportunity. I hope none of them have to walk home from an interview because they can’t afford the bus fare both ways.