Technology has created a world of work and leisure beyond imagining in the year of my birth. Medicine has turned death sentences into manageable conditions. The role of women has transformed radically. (Though there's still much work to be done.) Just as radical, I'd argue, is the shift in our approach to work ... though we don't give it nearly the same amount of attention.The career path I trained for simply doesn't exist for today's graduates. I went to university to learn to do a specific thing. I expected to change employers a few times, but assumed I'd step onto a ladder and keep climbing. I'd go ever upwards, in a relatively straight trajectory, until my august retirement to charity boards, gardening and travel in my late 50s.
How alien that vision seems now! Better health and poorer pensions mean we're all likely to be working into our 70s and beyond. Millennials entering the workforce expect a pick-a-mix of employment experiences: big business and self employed, full time and part, radical shifts between roles and industries ... probably liberally spiced with self-enhancing sabbaticals. For those of us bred to the structure of paid holidays, co-funded pension plans and premium insurance policies, the financial risk that comes with such a varied career is nerve-wracking. I'm convinced, however, that the potential for personal fulfillment is far greater.
These thoughts, combined with healthy doses of envy and pride, flooded through my brain this past weekend when I stepped over the threshold of a strikingly beautiful home design shop in Canterbury called Neptune. It was the latest endeavour of a good friend and former workplace protege who'd had a Damascene revelation a few years ago. She'd had enough of marketing communications, and its inevitable corporate politics, and decided to do something about it. Not some time off. Not a shift to freelance, or a shift to a similar role in a different industry. But a wholesale transformation to something completely alien. Her move was brave, risky and unexpected. But seeing her standing at the heart of that beguilingly seductive shop, consumed with passion about what she's now doing, I have no doubts she made the right choice.Neptune is a fascinating British brand, as much about concept as about tangible products. If there's any connection between my friend's old profession and new, it's that. I was aware of Neptune as providers of luxury kitchens, but now know that's the tip of their iceberg. They're offering something almost unknown in the UK: lifestyle-based interiors. Their shops are showcases of desire: dream homes as stage sets, every element carefully selected to gel into a casual, yet elegant and sophisticated, style. You can buy everything you see, from the impressively solid furniture to the subtle throw cushions and the tasteful candlesticks. It's all designed by the Neptune team, and manufactured either in the UK or in a wholly-owned and carefully supervised Chinese operation. Americans would recognise it as mash-up of Crate & Barrel and Restoration Hardware Company. The closest equivalent I can think of in the UK is Ikea ... but this is after the fairy godmother of retail turned a Cinderella shop into something worthy of the ball.
Thank heavens I have recently completed decorating our house, or I could have gotten into some real trouble. Wandering through the place was a delight, however, and even those with no furnishing needs can come away with something, from china and glassware to some of the most realistic silk flowers I've ever seen. And it's not just the interiors that are a work of art. The building itself was a remarkable restoration project, returning a much-abused 19th century oast house to its original, church-like proportions. The central hall now soars three stories above you, where you can see some of the restored industrial mechanisms suspended from the ceiling between flying spans of roof timber.There've been no half measures as my friend has jumped into this totally new career. She now radiates an enthusiasm and a passion that I've seen from few colleagues. I've long thought that creating tangible things gives you sense of fulfilment, and a connection to beauty, that most of us on the corporate ladder will never experience. If I were younger, I'd be fantasising about following my friend's lead. (It's probably significant that she's almost young enough to be my daughter ... if I'd gotten started very early.)
As it is, I'm looking at this new generation's pick-a-mix career portfolios with envy. It's probably a bit late for me to re-invent myself as a history teacher or a restorer of decorative Georgian plasterwork. But I have no doubt that they, by having multiple and very different jobs, will be on a path to deeper satisfaction than the four-decade corporate hacks of their parents' generation.
If you like interior design, I'd recommend a visit to any Neptune store. But you can only find my renewed friend Sarah, and the amazing oast house restoration, in Canterbury. Details here.
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