Back when I had a pudding bowl haircut, I never imagined I’d end up working in healthcare. (And if you had a pudding bowl haircut too, what did you want to be when you grew up? I’m expecting to see #BackWhenIHadAPudBowl trending any minute now…)
I thought about joining the police. I considered becoming an electrician like my dad. But one thing I never thought about—not for a second—was working in healthcare. I don’t like blood or needles, for a start!
Healthcare just wasn’t something anyone talked about on careers day at school. And if it was, it certainly wasn’t mentioned to the boys.
So, I went down the path I knew. I started an electrical apprenticeship, with plans to follow in my father’s footsteps. But in 2010, just as I was nearing the end of my training, the company we both worked for went bust under the pressure of the financial crisis. I needed to be employed to finish the apprenticeship—and there weren’t many opportunities around.
I decided to get any job while I looked for something electrical. My partner at the time worked in healthcare, so I joined a healthcare agency. Went through the interview, DBS check, basic training. Then came the words I’ll never forget: “Right, off you go!”
Really? That’s it? I’m officially licensed to care for people. I wasn’t sure I was even capable of looking after myself, let alone anyone else.
I turned up to my first shift a bag of nerves.
Would the residents like me?
Would I get on with the team?
Was I even capable of doing this job?
It seemed to me then—and still does now—that there isn’t a more important job in the world than caring for others.
I had zero experience. None. Nada. I was probably the walking definition of “dreaded agency worker”—just trained in the basics: how to use a hoist, administer first aid, spot the fire exits… and off you go. The care homes didn’t need someone green; they needed someone who could step in, take over a shift at short notice, and help keep everything running smoothly.
The expectation was immediate:
“Can you help this resident with their evening meal?”
“Can you change this resident’s pad?”
No blood. No needles. But these moments—so small on the surface—felt massive to me. I remember how scared I was the first time I was asked to help someone eat, or to assist with changing a pad. But somewhere in all that nervousness, I realised: I wanted to help.
I didn’t know how to care for someone properly—but I did know how I’d want my own family to be treated. With dignity. With patience. With kindness.
What I lacked in experience, I made up for with passion. And if there’s one thing that every single person in this sector needs, whether you’re a frontline carer, a kitchen assistant, a manager, or even the Health Minister—it’s passion for delivering great care.
I never looked back. I stopped chasing electrical jobs, because I’d found something more than a career. I’d found a calling.
So, how did you get into care?
And what did you want to be back when you had a pudding bowl haircut?