What’s the worst thing that has happened to you in a job interview?
Fluffed your lines? Asked the wrong question? Well, I bet I can top it.
It was 2016, and I was being interviewed for a factory job. Everything seemed to be going well, and I thought I was going to get it.
But then, the interviewer produced an image of my prison mugshot, and a news story about my recent conviction for wasting police time.
At that moment, I felt awful – I just wanted the ground to swallow me up. I even began to deny it was me in the article, but the interviewer knew.
Surprisingly, I actually managed to get the role; the interviewer loved my attitude and my perseverance because I had kept showing up and asking for a job.
I was thrilled to have passed this hurdle, but I was still struck by the overwhelming sense of shame that had come over me when my past was brought up.
It wasn’t the first time this has happened, and it’s degrading. I do not want to be defined by crimes I’ve committed.
I’m not ashamed to talk about my convictions, but during the nearly two decades I spent in and out of prison, I know it’s hard to feel accepted in a new environment.
When you’ve left prison and find yourself in work, you never shake the feeling that everyone is talking about you behind your back.
When that happens, it can be easy to slip back into a life of crime, to become that worst version of yourself that everyone seems to assume you are.
My criminal history began in 2004 when I was 14, obsessed with cars, and growing up on an estate.
Falling in with the wrong crowd and misbehaving in school, it didn’t take long for me to decide to break into a neighbour’s car and take it for a spin with a couple of friends. When the owner found us, chaos broke out.
The owner put my mate in a headlock, a fight between the three of us started and the man was injured. The judge said we were one kick away from manslaughter.
That was my first 16 months behind bars. Aged 15, I left a Children’s Secure Unit and was soon faced with how hard it is to go back to your old life.
I was scared, and knew I would struggle without the routine of the unit.
Initially, I had planned to go back to my studies but due to my record no schools accepted me. I attended one institute for an hour a week but that was it.
My support worker discussed getting into employment, but in my mind, I already had a way to earn money without anyone’s help: stealing cars.
It felt like the only choice I could make, but it also meant I was in and out of prison for 18 years.
I committed a range of crimes: burglary, assault, driving under the influence, and I abused drugs and alcohol.
During this period, I also had different factory roles, tried out college, had a child with my ex-partner and came out as gay in 2011. After three years without arrest, in 2015, I was in a dark place having issues with my son, and that set me back on the criminal path.
My relationship with my last partner was also a factor. The relationship was fraught with arguments and when it finally broke down in 2018, so did I.
That all led me to my last conviction in 2019.
I was convicted for dangerous driving, street robbery and possession of cannabis. I lost everything, including the friends who committed these crimes with me.
I spent four-and-a-half years in prison.
My head was a mess, but I knew in this stint I wanted to change and get back on the right track.
And three years into my sentence, I came across a leaflet for a programme called ‘Evolve’, run by the company SBFM, a privately owned soft facilities management company.
It had launched Evolve to help provide sustainable employment opportunities and support for people from disadvantaged groups, raising individuals above the poverty line.
Evolve work with people who traditionally struggle to find meaningful employment by offering tailored coaching and training. Candidates include ex-offenders, care leavers, the long-term unemployed, refugees, disabled people, and those experiencing homelessness.
When I heard of it while in prison, I initially thought this was just another fad, another marketing exercise. However, they were so hands on, approachable, and personable.
In February 2023 I was released from prison, and my support from SBFM led to meaningful work, without shame.
For the first time in my life, the employment support I was given wasn’t mixed with judgement, or employers making their mind up on who I was purely based on my past.
SBFM knew my entire conviction history and still secured me work as a cleaner, where I worked for a few months before moving on to the help desk.
In 2019, I couldn’t imagine ever being able to stay out of prison. But now, I’ve turned my life around and I can’t imagine ever going back.
More from Platform
Platform is the home of Metro.co.uk's first-person and opinion pieces, devoted to giving a platform to underheard and underrepresented voices in the media.
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And finally, mum-of-two Kellie Whitehead recalls the time she took 'snus' with her 17-year-old son. She says she was overwhelmed by the strength of the nicotine pouch and now has a warning for parents.
Everything has changed so fast, but for the first time, I’m level headed, thinking before I act, starting a career, and genuinely committed to my job.
I’m much happier now; I’ve been in a healthy relationship for eight months. And although there are still struggles, now these are balancing work and my social life, rather than with criminality and staying out of prison.
When I talk to people about my journey, I’m always clear that it’s not that over those 18 years in and out of prison I didn’t want to change.
I did want to change, more than anything, but I just felt like I couldn’t.
The shame-free approach I experienced with Evolve and SBFM, both in and out of prison, has made me feel that I can breathe again.
For anyone in a similar position, I need you to know that it is never too late, you just need someone to tell you that you are deserving of another chance.
That’s all it took for me.
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