Thirty years have passed since I received the envelope containing my O-level results, but I can still recall the moment my eyes scanned the letter. I got a C in English Literature, a Grade 1 in CSE Drama and failed the rest. I relayed the news to my mother and suggested I embark on a residential Work Experience Programme with a view to learning a trade. She enthusiastically endorsed this plan.
From that moment on I was fixed on a path of downward social mobility and would now be a labourer were it not for two things.
The first one was the Work Experience Programme. The idea was that you tried your hand at various blue-collar professions and earned the same as you would if you were signing on. I now realise it was a cynical government scheme to conceal the true level of youth unemployment, but at the time I took it at face value.
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