Lettie Gets Rewired

You may have gathered from previous blogs that I always wanted to work in aviation. I caught the bug early.

I have very fond memories of forcing my best friend to play “Airports” with me in my bedroom using a BEA timetable. Yes… I’m that old.

So when I left college after my A-levels, I made a deal with my dad:
if I could get a meaningful job I loved, I could give up my place at Manchester University to study Mathematics & Computing and go straight into work instead.

That was all the motivation I needed to march myself down to the Job Centre.

Oh, how times have changed.

I spotted a role with a small air taxi company at Manchester Airport. They needed an administrator. I applied, got an interview and got the job.

Six weeks later I’d apparently convinced them they couldn’t manage without me, was offered a permanent role, and promptly gave up my university place.

And so the journey began.

Over the years I moved through aviation roles, eventually becoming one of the first female aircraft dispatchers at Manchester Airport. Me and the other women experienced varying levels of discrimination along the way, but mostly we just got on with it. There wasn’t much appetite back then for endless debates about fairness. You either held your own or you didn’t.

Then life shifted direction.

Following some health issues, I became a stay-at-home mum. Although “stay at home” is probably stretching it slightly.

I became a parent governor at the village primary school, helped with Sunday school, joined the parish council, organised fundraising for the Millennium celebrations, ran farmhouse B&B and off-airport parking… and generally discovered that I’m apparently incapable of sitting still for long.

At which point my husband gently — and by gently, I mean not remotely gently — suggested that with all the time I was spending out of the house, I might as well get a proper job.

Fair point.

But what to do?

I could easily have gone back into aviation, but I didn’t want to become one of those people permanently stuck in:
“Well, that’s not how we did it back in the day…”

So instead, I started looking around for something completely different.

That’s how I ended up applying for a job at a well-known bank, working in an outbound call centre selling loans.

More than one person told me I wasn’t a “sales person.” Some were absolutely convinced I’d never even get through the interview.

Which, if I’m honest, only made me more determined to try.

And I got it.

Ten months later I had a company car, was earning strong commission, managing my own diary, fitting work around family life and genuinely enjoying myself.

Then came the next sideways step.

I transferred into branch banking, moved into management and eventually became responsible for large operational teams.

And then the financial crisis started looming.

Northern Rock collapsed. The industry was wobbling. The atmosphere changed overnight.

So once again, I started reassessing.

I looked at sectors offering stability, decent benefits and long-term opportunities and somehow ended up applying for a role in the NHS… 260 miles away from home.

My husband thought the whole thing was ridiculous.

When I got the interview, he assumed they’d made a mistake.

When I got the job, he was genuinely stunned.

So we packed up as a family and moved south.

Joining the NHS was a huge learning curve. I was completely outside my comfort zone, but gradually I realised something important:
most skills are transferable if you’re willing to learn.

Managing people.
Communicating well.
Staying calm under pressure.
Solving problems.
Building relationships.
Adapting.

Those things matter in almost every environment.

While working there, I also completed a Masters degree — something that made my dad enormously proud because he finally got to see me graduate at the age of 53.

Life, however, doesn’t always move neatly upwards.

Eventually my marriage ended, and professionally things later became very difficult during one particular NHS role. I can’t go into detail because of an NDA, but emotionally I hit rock bottom.

My confidence disappeared.
My self-belief vanished.
I genuinely stopped recognising my own value.

And then one phone call changed everything.

An old contact rang simply to check in and see how I was doing. They had no idea what had been happening in my world.

Two days later I was meeting them in London.
A week later I was working with them part time.
Then full time.

Two acquisitions later, I now work for a global tech company.

And despite all evidence to the contrary, there are still mornings when I wake up convinced this is the day someone finally realises I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

Imposter syndrome is alive and well.

Looking back, my career probably resembles a game of Snakes and Ladders played by somebody slightly distracted.

There have definitely been some ladders.

But the snakes? The snakes were absolute monsters.

What I’ve learned though is this:
most lives are far less linear than we imagine they should be.

Very few people move neatly from A to B anymore. Many of us take sideways steps, accidental detours, complete reinventions and occasional spectacular slides backwards.

But none of those experiences are wasted.

The skills you build in one chapter often become the exact thing that helps you survive the next one.

Sometimes the biggest shift isn’t learning something new.
It’s finally recognising the value of what you already know