We decided to initially focus on Whitsborough Bay TEC for Project Hercules as the courses at that college were vocational and therefore the more likely source for budding entrepreneurs. If it went well there, we could extend it to the sixth form college and university.
The TEC Principal, Malcolm Dring, was very receptive to the project and invited me to his staff meeting at the end of January to pitch the idea. In February, we were invited into various lessons to promote our services and we took a table at the careers fair that month which generated a lot of interest.
By early March, we were up and running with our first students, a couple of staff members and a few evening classes attendees – an audience we hadn’t previously considered. It was all fairly informal with students being allocated to the Bay Trader who had the most appropriate expertise but, after a conversation with one of my students, it struck me that there was something we could do that was so much wider than business mentoring.
Olivia was a final-year catering student with a dream of running her own business from a converted horse box that she’d take to festivals and events.
‘I’ve got the horse box already,’ she told me. ‘My grandparents run a farm and they’ve given me a disused one. My dad’s a joiner so he’s going to help me convert it and my mum’s happy to do the driving until I’m old enough for the right licences.’
She had reams of information to show me about the venues she’d visit, the finances, and the food she’d sell. She’d even drawn a sketch of what the finished horse box would look like.
‘This is all very impressive,’ I said. ‘You’ve clearly done stacks of research and you know exactly what you’re doing. So how can I help?’
‘I’ve got no confidence,’ Olivia said.
I flashed her a warm smile. ‘You have just spent twenty minutes talking animatedly to a complete stranger about your well-researched plans. What would make you think you have no confidence?’
‘I know I can cook and I believe in my business idea but I’m really scared of confrontation. What if there’s a queue and someone pushes to the front? What if someone complains about my food and demands their money back? What if another retailer has a go at me for being parked too close to their pitch? I’d die.’
She certainly wouldn’t die but it raised an important need. Whether they were going to set up their own business or seek employment, there was a demand among the students for life skills. The following day, I found myself in Malcolm Dring’s office once more, pitching another idea and, by the time the students returned from the Easter holidays, Project Hercules had extended to include a series of short workshops around self-belief, making a positive first impression and being assertive when facing conflict or negativity.
Partway through my first session on creating positive first impressions, I asked if there were any questions. Glancing round the room, I took in the flushed cheeks and averted gazes and kicked myself. All the students were there because they lacked self-confidence so asking a question out loud in front of their peers was not something they were going to relish.
‘I’m going to hand you some Post-it notes each and I want you to take a few moments to scribble down any questions you might have or observations you want to share about first impressions. When you’ve done that, come up and stick them on the whiteboard and we’ll spend some time going through them. And don’t worry, I won’t ask who wrote what. This is just to get a discussion going based on what you want to know so I can tailor this session for you.’
It took a moment but then one student bent her head and started writing, quickly followed by another. Soon the board was full of colourful Post-it notes. I addressed the first couple then flinched as I removed the third.
‘My first impression of you is that you are naturally confident. There’s no way I’ll ever be like you. Do you have any real idea what it’s like to be shy and scared?’ I read out loud, emphasising the word “real” which had been capitalised and underlined.
I perched against the desk and looked round twelve pairs of curious eyes. ‘It’s a great question and the answer is yes. I know exactly what it’s like. I never used to be like this. You see, my parents died when I was young and I moved from one foster home to the next feeling scared and vulnerable…’
I sat in my car for about ten minutes after that workshop, thinking about what I’d shared and the impact – the positive impact – it had on those young people. I’d been very selective with my information, of course, but the story of a shy young girl moving from home to home then moving away from everything and everyone she knew to set up her own business from scratch really drew them in. They started to ask questions. They wanted to know how I’d done it. How had I overcome my fears? How had I found the strength to change?
The more I opened up, the more they shared about their own inhibitions and, for the first time ever, I realised that my past had the power to do good. Instead of hiding from it, I could harness it and help others face their future.
Since the launch of Project Hercules and the subsequent introduction of my rabbit to my team, I’d continued to ask the team questions and had noticed that they seemed genuinely touched when I enquired after a family member’s health, a night out or an exam result. In return, I shared some snippets about my personal life. It felt uncomfortable at first and quite exposing but I took baby steps and, before I knew it, conversations became natural. I was still guarded, only talking about ‘safe’ everyday subjects like Hercules, Pilates, films I’d watched or books I’d read, preferring to keep the focus on getting to know my team rather than sharing too much about me. They didn’t know anything about my parents or foster families even though I now knew all about their families. I hadn’t told Carly the final part of the story either. I still couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. She remained under the belief that Leanne and Garth had been seeing each other and I hadn’t let her think any differently. It was easier that way.
But as I drove back to The Chocolate Pot after my workshop at the TEC, it struck me that I’d shared something significant about my past with a group of strangers that I hadn’t shared with my team. It was only fair that I let them in a bit more, starting with Maria.
It was raining heavily by the time I got back to The Chocolate Pot. The combination of the bad weather and it being late afternoon meant there were only a handful of customers. Most of the cleaning had already been done and Molly was busy giving the menus a wipe. I asked Sheila and Molly to hold the fort while I went upstairs for a word with Maria.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ I said as she sat opposite me with her hands tightly gripped round a mug of tea. ‘I want to tell you something but it doesn’t affect this place or the wedding so please don’t panic.’
She let out a sigh of relief. ‘I thought you were going to tell me they’d made a mistake and revoked the wedding licence.’
‘Nothing like that. It’s about me. You might have wondered why I never talk about my family and there’s a very good reason…’
Maria only needed the highlights – not the (almost) full story I’d given to Carly. I told her about losing my parents and going into foster care. I told her I got married when I was twenty-one but it turned out to be a big mistake and the marriage ended quickly and badly leaving me with serious trust issues so I avoided relationships. As for Kirsten and Tim, I went for something vague: They were wonderful people but their daughter resented sharing them and turned against me. I thought it would be better to sever contact than cause a family rift.
‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ I said, ‘but it cropped up today when I told the students I hadn’t always been confident. It’s a small town and someone here is bound to have some sort of friend-of-a-friend connection to one of them so I’d rather you and the rest of the team heard it from me.’
‘You’re going to tell the others?’
I nodded. ‘I don’t want to make a big thing of it but I’ll try to slip it into conversations over the next couple of weeks.’
She nodded. ‘I won’t say anything.’
We both stood up and pushed our chairs in but Maria didn’t move away from the table.
‘I get why you didn’t say anything before,’ she said. ‘It can be hard to talk about the past, particularly if it’s a difficult one.’ She picked up her mug and walked towards the stairs then turned and smiled gently. ‘Don’t let your past define you, Tara. You’re stronger than that. And don’t feel you have to tell people about it. You choose what to share and you choose when and, if you really want to share, then find the truth that works for you. People don’t have to know your deepest secrets to know you. I never knew anything about your past until now but I think I know you pretty well. You don’t work with someone as long as I’ve worked with you and not get a real sense of exactly who they are.’
She smiled again and skipped down the stairs, leaving me with my mouth open. I certainly hadn’t seen that coming.