No Arts Students dreams of working on the Tubes
During the 3 years I spent frantically tearing through books and writing essays, the last thing I thought I’d be doing with my well-earned degree is working on the trains.
There are certain industries and sectors that appeal to Arts students – trains tend not to feature in any of these.
Arts students living in London, especially those hailing from the deep heart of the Northern countryside, are often the Graduates to fall the hardest. They spend 3 or 5 years embroiling themselves in an Arts driven community. The friends they make, along with the environments they grow accustomed to, are endemic of the course that they are taking. Living in a world where questions of artistic intention are more important than meeting deadlines or taking on responsibility, can lead to a shift in mental priorities that can limit people’s ambitions in later life.
When I was knee-deep in my Fine Art degree, the first job I had in mind was a pipe dream.
A chic, understated office, where everyone would make their own lattes. People would take turns putting on records and meetings would be held whilst sitting on bean bags. My vision of how a business functioned, never mind the world, was seriously warped. I was yet to discover that people who spent all their time discussing coffee and indie bands were rarely the people who could get things sorted or projects executed.
Despite my current employment, I’ve managed to hold on to a handful of old friends working in these chic offices. Well-meaning creatives all of them, they’re now rammed into square meeting rooms and are desperately brain-storming inventive ways of marketing to college students. Where they once had the time to draw parallels between the works of Samuel Pepys and French Renaissance Pastorals, they now only have time to binge watch whatever’s hot on Netflix and pass out for 7 hours, before doing it all over again.
I count myself as lucky.
I could have been with them, stuck up in the glass plated prisons of the Information Age. I could be nobly scrapping with other creatives for credit over a lousy piece of ‘content’. I could be mournfully looking back at my University life as the ‘good old days’. But I’m not.
In my final year at University, I ran out of money. Easily done. To make ends meet, I took a job as a Customer Service representative in Tottenham Court Road Underground Station. I dreaded that first shift, thinking of myself sinking into a dull, grey world of mediocrity. A million miles away from the sophisticated ply-wood clad office that I was dreaming of. What I found instead was a bustling, thriving community of passionate individuals striving towards one goal.
Seeing the Underground system from the other side suddenly made me appreciate the vast, intricate nature of this convenience that I had been taking for granted for the last three years. Not only was I actively engaged in this system, I was helping it function better. My manager at the time recognised my enthusiasm and slipped me some information regarding their Graduate Scheme. A younger, shallower version of myself would have snorted in derision at this – but I did no such thing.