This time of year always (unfortunately) takes me back to A Level results day. I cried lots. All because my first choice uni decided my B in English Literature wasn’t adequate enough and rejected me. I had to get over it, and off to Chester I went.
I’ve always been told that you go “where you’re supposed to.” Lancaster wasn’t on my “life pathway” obviously because of my inability to decipher whatever Chaucer was on about. My first year of uni I was ridiculously homesick, so bad that in between Christmas and Easter universities in Belfast and Dublin had places ready to go for me the following September, because I was adamant I wanted to come home. I stuck it out, got my degree (without the help of Geoffrey Chaucer) and made some amazing friends along the way.
I’m not even going into my plans for post-uni, it’s literally embarrassing what an indecisive show I was. After announcing the world I was going to do a Master’s in Dublin and oh yeah then Newcastle, when I discovered I didn’t have a pot of gold pre-Master’s loans I quickly went into the world of full-time employment.
As much as I wanted to embark on a creative career, I ended up back in my old job from uni. It was the best decision I ever made, as through this I secured a year and a bit of restaurant management under my belt, and gained the best work and life experience I could have ever asked for. I also learnt here that no matter how stressful something is, I don’t think anything will ever quantify the stress of a full, busy restaurant.
After two years after leaving uni and a few years bouncing between hospitality and the travel industry, I finally got a job that I get to do some writing in. These things just take a bit of time.
So if your results didn’t go to plan, or you don’t know what to do next, don’t worry us twenty-somethings really aren’t that clued up either.