Katie Gillard: 'I'm used to people doing a double-take when I'm driving.' Photographs: Leonora Saunders
Katie Gillard, 21, truck driver
There are 300,000 truck drivers in the UK, of whom 1,600 (0.5%) are women. Katie (previous pages) completed her category C HGV exams in 2010 and started her career at her dad's haulage firm, JL Gillard & Sons in Somerset. She now works for Tarmac at a quarry in Wiltshire.
I left college with a full qualification to work with young children, but decided it wasn't for me. My dad told me that the age limit to get an HGV licence had changed from 21 to 19 and suggested I do the exams. I passed the test first time in 2010 and last year I passed the class 1 articulated lorry test. Walking into the classroom to do the first of my HGV practical exams was really intimidating. I was the only girl.
The first time I sat behind the wheel was terrifying, but I picked it up pretty quickly. I work with my father, Andrew, who owns a quarry. I'm used to people doing a double-take when I'm driving. I get it every day, particularly when I'm sitting in traffic. It doesn't bother me too much. I really enjoy driving.
On some sites, blokes look at you with an expression that says, "Oh, you're only a young girl and you're driving a big lorry." The other day, I had to manoeuvre out of a tight spot and a builder insisted on telling me how to move my lorry, but it was totally the wrong way. People can often be like that, but I just ignore it.
A lot of teasing goes on where I work, but everyone gets the same treatment. Male or female, if you're shy or timid, a quarry would be the wrong place to work.
Some people say more girls are sitting their HGV test. But from what I see, women are always going to be a minority in this industry. It's always going to be seen as a man's world.
Fran Wilkins, 30, coxswain
Fran Wilkins: 'At first, I felt I had to prove myself. Once I felt I had, it was fine.'
Of around 5,000 station crew in the RNLI, 8% are female. Fran is the first female coxswain at the Filey lifeboat station in North Yorkshire, and one of only three in the UK. A coxswain is in command of a rescue at sea. Most lifeboat crew are volunteers.
I joined the RNLI when I was 17, after I left school. It seemed a natural thing to do. My dad is a fisherman, I have a brother in the merchant navy, another in the army as a diver and a younger brother on the same lifeboat crew. So it's in the family. I studied sports at university, but was more interested in this. I became a coxswain last October.
The reality is that you are surrounded by men. At first, I felt I had to prove myself. Once I felt I had, it was fine. But the most important thing is that you are doing the job properly. Being in a crew, you get pulled into a very strong team who fully trust each other. I wouldn't have been able to get this far without help from the other members.
Male or female, it's not for everyone. And it's definitely not glamorous: you should see me after a rescue in really bad weather.
I also work as a watch officer for HM Coastguard. That involves coordinating a response team. Whenever I'm not working in the office, I'm on call. My pager is always on. There are 28 of us on the lifeboat crew and we don't have a rota, so when I'm paged, I go to the station.
Operations vary from rescuing people cut off by the tide to looking for missing people. We towed my dad in last year. If my dad or my brother needed to be rescued, I would want a good crew to help them. That's the way I think about it when I go to assist someone: this is someone's father or someone's brother.
Jo Manson, 35, surgeon
Jo Manson: 'Some medical students still tell me they don't want to do surgery because it's incompatible with having a family. That simply isn't true.'
According to Ucas, 55% of the applicants accepted on to medical degree courses in the UK in 2011 were women. However, the high proportion of female students is not translating into the number of consultant surgeons who are women (9%). Jo is a surgical registrar and has just completed a PhD at the Centre for Trauma and Neurosciences, Queen Mary, University of London. She is currently working at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center in Pennsylvania, having been awarded the inaugural Royal College of Surgeons of England Fulbright Scholars Award.
Being a surgeon is tough; but then, most things in life that are worth doing require hard work. Surgery is extremely rewarding. It is all about problem-solving. My goal is to become an academic consultant trauma surgeon, allowing me to conduct research and look after severely injured patients.
I know I am lucky to do a job I love, but I would be disingenuous if I said I've enjoyed every minute. There have been some very difficult times. In addition, I have five more years of training to complete, so there is still a long way to go.
Women are not prevented from pursuing surgery as a career. I never considered it inaccessible. That said, you have to really want to do it. Surgery is extremely competitive. Some medical students still tell me they don't want to do surgery because it's incompatible with having a family. That simply isn't true. Some of the training coincides with the ideal child-rearing years, but having spent 15 years training to be a surgeon, I have no intention of giving it all up if I start a family.
Mentoring is essential for both sexes. Most of my early role models were male. Most of my current mentors are male. Throughout my training I have been very fortunate to have a strong female mentor, Averil Mansfield [the first female professor of surgery]. Her support at critical moments was invaluable. I now know several female surgeons who inspire me, and my husband is a surgeon at the same stage of training – we support and encourage each other.
Louisa Court, 27, grip
Louisa Court: 'I have been directed to makeup and the art department, and on numerous occasions I have been presumed to be the grip's personal assistant.'
Louisa is one of the very few female grips working in the UK, and women comprised only 1% of key grips on the 250 top grossing films in the US in 2008. She was working as a runner when she became interested in becoming a grip after talking to one on set. She has now been working as a grip for six years and has an NVQ level 2 qualification.
I work on everything from big series productions to adverts and low-budget films. Film production is a very male-dominated industry. Camerawork is only just starting to come into its own in terms of female operators. It would be nice to see more women. I think it's because women don't know what grips do. In fact, most people don't know what a grip does.
A grip's responsibility is to build and operate all the equipment that supports a camera. The equipment includes tripods, a dolly, tracks, jibs, cranes and static rigs. It's specialised gear that needs a high level of experience to operate and move. Really, it's like having oversized Meccano your disposal. I love what I do.
It may be that women are intimidated by the physical side of the work. I certainly had concerns about it when I first started, and so did many of the people I trained with. Some of the kit is hard to move. But you just have to figure out how to lift or move things differently. I have had so much support from other grips. I'm sure there is the odd one who thinks women can't do it, but thankfully they haven't employed me.
It was hard when I started: I didn't realise I was such an oddity. People would say, "Oh, you're that girl grip." I have had people telling me not to touch my own gear and taking heavy gear off me because they assume I am not the grip. I have been directed to makeup and the art department, and on numerous occasions I have been presumed to be the grip's personal assistant – always by female production staff. But now I'm more confident about shouting and telling people where to get off.
Alison Miller, 38, train driver
Alison Miller: 'Looking back, going from social work to train driving does seem a big jump, but I'm so glad I did it.'
Alison drives trains out of Glasgow Central for ScotRail. One of only 4% of train drivers who are women, Alison is also on Aslef's Women's Representative Committee.
I have been doing this for six years now. I like the variety of the job, with the different types of trains to drive, and some of the places I drive through on the Ayrshire coast are really beautiful. The shift patterns were a shock to the system at first, but it definitely suits me better than a nine-to-five office job.
I have always worked in male-dominated areas: bars, a car dealership and a car-stereo company. After I left university with a degree in geography and Scottish studies, I got a job with the police as a strategic analyst and then moved on to social work. Looking back, going from social work to train driving does seem a big jump, but I'm so glad I did it. I love it. My husband is a member of the Scottish Railway Preservation Society and had heard that ScotRail were looking for train drivers (I think he just wanted to be married to a train driver), so I applied. Train driving is notorious for having a difficult selection processes. I never thought I'd be accepted. The training was very tough. There is a high drop-out rate. I had one other woman in my class of eight, which wouldn't be the norm. I would love to see more women thinking about this as a career. A lot more needs to be done in terms of getting women interested.
The uniform is horrendous. You wear men's steel-capped shoes. And the drivers' jacket is supposedly unisex, but really you go out looking like you are wearing your partner's clothes. But there are a lot more things to enjoy about being a train driver.
Caroline Lake, 41, mechanic
Caroline Lake: 'There is no reason women can't do it. It's not about brute strength.'
There are around 200 female mechanics compared to 500,000 male mechanics working in the UK (0.04%). Caroline is a mechanic and the founder of Caroline's Cars, a female– and male–friendly garage in Norfolk.
I have always had a fascination with cars. As a teenager, when my friends had their heads stuck in Smash Hits, I would be reading motor magazines. At 14, I could tell you what time every car model in the UK could do 0-60 in. When I was 16, my father bought me an old Triumph Dolomite to fix up.
When I finished school, I studied social studies and marketing – being a mechanic wasn't an option in those days. At 27, I set up a franchise with a Japanese car company. I asked the mechanic to take me on as an unpaid apprentice one day a week. I was the tea girl and the butt of most of the jokes, but I loved the smells, the cars. I started to do more hours, and after a few years the boss asked if I wanted to take the MOT NVQ exams.
Working in other garages over the years, I did feel like an outsider. Some of the guys would make horrible, sexist comments, but I noticed many of the women drivers would want to talk to me. Because the industry isn't regulated, some mechanics will take advantage of people's lack of knowledge. It can be intimidating. That got the cogs going about starting up my own business. Caroline's Cars has been running since 2006. I have taught hundreds of women – and men – basic mechanics.
I think there are so few women because it's a stereotypical male environment, but I plan to change that. There is no reason women can't do it. It's not about brute strength. There is a tool for everything. In fact, women have certain characteristics that make them perfect for the trade. Women are dextrous, patient – they have less of a tendency to throw a spanner across the room. I often speak at schools to promote it to young girls; to tell them that this is actually quite a cool job. I hope to have garages across the country where women can train. The more women that do it, the more other women will see it as an option. I have plenty of customers who say to me, "I wish I could have done this when I was younger", but, like me, they didn't see it as an option.
Charlotte Harbottle, 24, butcher
Charlotte Harbottle: 'I am not a feminist. I just think there should be good butchers who know what they are doing with a carcass whether they are male or female.'
Charlotte has just moved from specialist butcher Lidgate's in London's Holland Park to owning her own shop, Charlotte's Butchery, in Newcastle. Of 7,000 butchers in the retail meat industry, Charlotte is thought to be one of only three women (0.04%).
There have been a few occasions when I was serving and the customer asked to speak to a butcher. I would say nothing and get another butcher to help them. But my colleagues would usually tell them I'm the best person to talk to anyway.
Sometimes, when people hear I'm a butcher, they say, "Do you really cut stuff up?" I don't mind that side of things at all. You don't see it as a living thing. The job is mechanical and very specialist to do right. I am not a feminist. I just think there should be good butchers who know what they are doing with a carcass whether they are male or female. I think the more people realised what a butcher does, the more popular this career would be.
I studied theology at York University, and worked in a butcher's shop part-time. When I graduated, I got a job as a proofreader, but I hated working in an office. I realised I would prefer to be a butcher and have the freedom that owning your own business brings. It's strange – relatives in my family are sheep farmers, and my mother grew up on a farm, so I have always known about this industry in some way, but last year my grandmother sent me a picture of my great-great grandfather standing outside his own butcher shop. So it's definitely in the blood.
0 comments:
Post a Comment