I was 14 the first time I discovered the wonder of spending time backstage at a theatre. My work experience was two weeks of sheer joy, spent backstage on the production of Oh What a Night starring Will Mellor. I was in heaven. 

From that point on I pestered the team at the Opera House Manchester to let me visit, hang out, or watch rehearsals until I was old enough for them to pay me to spend time there. Four years later - ignoring my looming A-Levels, I went to work as a dresser on The King and I. That was it. I was hooked. 

I may have attended university but half of me was always waiting until the next phone call offering me another 2-week job, or if I was lucky 6 weeks of a big touring show like Miss Saigon, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or the best paying show of all Panto. With the money earned on Cinderella or Snow White I travelled the world, and finally saved enough to move into the centre of manchester. 

The theatre has had ownership over my heart and soul since I can remember. Whether it’s watching, performing, writing or managing I’ve given it my all. I worked through each department when I could, moving from dressing to crew, crew to front of house, and then up into management. So that in March of 2020 I was a Theatre Manager for one of the largest theatre companies in the UK.

On the 17th March we closed down the theatre. Three of us independently walked around our gorgeous building making sure everything was locked, switched off, safe. As I waited in the dark  auditorium listening to the technical manager switching off the water, testing the pump system and going through every possible check we could think of, I realised how rare this experience was.

During the blitz audiences had stayed in their seats, shows had continued, it seemed nothing could stop show business. 

Until Covid. Getting the team to leave their offices was tough, no-one knew what to take with them or how long they’d be gone. Really we didn't want to leave each other. The corridors usually rang with laughter, music and spontaneous dance-a-thons keeping energy high. We genuinely liked each other.

Leaving the stage door that evening we expected to be back in a couple of weeks. I created a playlist for the team to listen to as they worked, and provided positive news articles each morning for a daily dose of optimism. And then I sat, and I waited. My role very much relied on there being a team in the building to manage. Without them, I was a cheerleader. Providing quizzes, and planning catch-ups. I had nothing to do. 

For years my life had been deadlines, KPI’s, opening nights, recruitment cycles that never ended, meetings and stock takes. Suddenly I didn't have emails to answer, staff members to talk to, shows to look forward to. I’d lost something so much greater than a job. I’d lost my identity.

As the months moved on, I mourned the theatre industry, I went through every stage of grief. Believing we’d be back by Christmas. Blaming the government. Offering to work in any role on any show, for no money. Feeling horribly sad that I wasn’t going to be working in the theatre anymore because as six months approached I was offered and took redundancy. 

My identity had always been associated with a theatre. I was the woman who performed this job in this theatre, and I didn't want it any other way. Stepping back from that was terrifying, but as I’d faced a summer with nothing to do I looked to myself and discovered who I wanted to be.

I trained as a transformational coach, so I could support my team with their mental health, their plans and goals, and encourage them to understand where the challenges might lie in achieving their dreams. 

I began writing again, finding that without the stress of an opening night every week I was able to engage with my creativity. With the chance to control my own time I now ensure I write one day a week, more if I’m able. 

I connected with the City Girl Network and volunteered as an event host sharing my coaching knowledge with the wonderful women of Bristol. 

Supporting the magazine as an editorial assistant, learning new skills and being part of this community has inspired me in so many ways. I’ve developed a passion for proofreading, and content editing when three months ago I couldn't have told you what they were.

Looking back on the grief I experienced last summer I realise I haven’t lost the theatre or my identity. I’ve explored new facets of myself that I was unaware of. Now I’m not that job in this theatre. I’m Laura, and I do a multitude of things, all of which I love.

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Written by Laura Pick

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