Last time I wrote, I was enjoying winter in Cyprus, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating the holidays and truly unwinding for the first time in ages. Today, I want to share two significant experiences: my brief stint at a struggling social enterprise and surviving a direct collision with a car.
In November 2023, I joined a young social enterprise as their Lead Workshop Facilitator. The company offered group music lessons in piano, guitar and bass, with a unique format: one hour of instrumental instruction followed by an hour of creative workshop time. As the lead facilitator, I was responsible for running these workshops and developing a curriculum to track student progress.
The role seemed perfect - a chance to combine my passion for music education with an innovative business model. However, warning signs appeared immediately. Despite advertising a full-time position (37.5 hours/week), they offered me a temporary variable hours contract, promising to “update it in January 2024.” In hindsight, this should have been my cue to walk away. But after job hunting for 18 months and relocating to Glasgow specifically for this type of opportunity, I was eager to make it work.
The fundamental issue was that my position depended entirely on future growth that never materialized. The CEO, hedging against risk, had me sign a variable hours contract instead of the advertised full-time position.
The business began promisingly during the pandemic, with the founder teaching group guitar lessons in church halls around Glasgow. This model worked well - parents appreciated the value of social, screen-free music education for their children, and the business grew steadily.
However, the expansion plans proved too ambitious. The CEO incorporated as a social enterprise and made optimistic projections, but several factors worked against us:
One Monday afternoon, while walking to work, I was struck by a silver Audi A3 that had swerved off the road. The collision knocked me unconscious and left me wedged between the car and my apartment building’s fence. I made the local news and was attended to by police, firefighters, and paramedics.
Remarkably, I survived with relatively minor injuries - a broken ankle, lower back damage, lacerations, and a concussion. While I’m still dealing with chronic back pain and a “bad ankle,” I’m grateful to be alive and walking. Passing the accident site daily (now with its newly repaired fence) serves as a powerful reminder of life’s fragility.
After taking paid sick leave, I returned to help with backend operations, discovering a chaotic mix of Gmail accounts, Google Drive services, and Microsoft Outlook emails with no proper security protocols. On my first day back in March, my line manager - who was also our safeguarding officer and a crucial team member - was made redundant. Two other staff members resigned in response.
A month later, I too was made redundant with just two hours’ notice.
This experience taught me several valuable lessons:
Trust your instincts - red flags like vague contracts and positions that seem too good to be true usually are warnings worth heeding.
Marketing strategy matters - outsourcing marketing for a community-based business was a critical mistake. Local, personal connections are invaluable.
People are your most valuable asset - the sudden dismissal of key team members revealed a disconnect between leadership and operations that ultimately contributed to the company’s decline.
Between the startup’s collapse and my near-death experience, I’ve gained a deeper appreciation for life and learned crucial lessons about work-life balance, trusting my instincts, and valuing human connections over business metrics.
While challenging, these experiences have contributed to my growth both personally and professionally. Thank you for following along on this journey - here’s to whatever comes next!