I had worked for Bhs since I got my NI card at 15 and three quarters.
After seven years I decided I had to leave.
I went on 'Monster' to search for my perfect job.
I applied thinking "Yep, I could try my hand at that."
I shockingly got the job and thought "If I get three years under my belt it makes me employable elsewhere."
A Regional Strategy Adviser.
I joked about a laptop, a mobile phone, and a car.
And I got all three.
Now, I am coming up to my 13 year anniversary.
An employer to which I applied to on a whim.
Because retail and construction are mutual friends.
From the East of England, to the North West, to England, back to the North West, and to England again.
From Rickmansworth, to Manchester, to Todmorden, to ... Wales.
From married, to single, to married.
For me to mum.
And this, this is my thirteen years:
And appreciating the knowledge I have been fortunate to have gained, from diploma to MBA.
Most relevantly, appreciating those whom have been in my life.
The boss, whom I couldn't believe would have offered me the job.
To the bestest of friend, who would have found a random pub after the traditional funeral, to allow us to appreciate life properly.
And in all of this, I have my diaries,
The notes from my studies.
I know that these are memories.
I know that my notebooks tell of meetings.
And my role shows what I have accomplished in 13 years.
They will not tell of friendships,
Of my embarrassments.
Of my pink thongs.
Of mud skateboarding.
Of more friends than enemies.
Of Beijing, Amsterdam, Dublin and Copenhagen.
Of baby showers and sleep deprived support.
Of first nights with babysitters in Southport.
Of Christmas Coffees and trips to a foreign country.
And so, I am grateful for friendships made.
Too many misdemeanors which have been forgiven.
By altogether the best of friends.
For acceptance, forgiveness, appreciation and respect.
Maybe I should burn the diaries as well!