Leaving teaching didn't feel like freedom. It felt like falling.

And then a hand reached out—wearing a black Lush apron, smelling of lavender, belonging to someone half my age.

I was fifty-six. Post-menopausal. "Terrified. And standing in Lush at Cribbs Causeway during Christmas, which is a bit like learning to swim by diving into a storm-tossed Atlantic."

Twenty years I'd spent in classrooms. Planning annual reviews. Writing school reports. Supporting students with special needs. Teaching was everything I knew, the only world that made sense. So when I tied on that black apron for the first time, anxiety didn't just grip me—it wrapped around my chest like a vice.

The retail floor buzzed with an energy I didn't understand yet. Customers moved through clouds of Snow Fairy and Sticky Dates like they belonged to a world I'd only just discovered. My hands fumbled with spa cards. My brain—fuzzy from menopause, slower at processing things—struggled to absorb product names faster than I could remember them. Bath bombs. Massage bars. Naked products. The language was new. The pace was relentless.

Some nights, I cried. from disappointment at my own failing, convinced I'd thrown away the security of two decades for this colourful, fragrant chaos. But every morning, I got back up. Put on that apron. Hung my Lush lanyard around my neck. Filled my pockets with those little spa cards. And showed up.

Because something extraordinary was happening, even when I couldn't see it through my tears.

The People Who Became My Lifeline

Management didn't treat me like a liability. Supervisors didn't roll their eyes at my questions. The young staff—students and temps who society loves to criticise—became my teachers. Patient when I forgot things. Celebrating when I got things right. Never once making me feel that my age or my fuzzy brain was a problem.

This matters more than I can say. At fifty-six, you expect to be invisible in a world that worships youth. Instead, I found myself welcomed into a community that valued what I brought: life experience, emotional intelligence, problem solving and the ability to truly listen.

Because that's what Lush does differently. They don't just hire bodies to shift product. They build teams. Real teams, where a former teacher can stand alongside a university student, and both matter equally.

The Customers Who Changed Everything

Then there were the customers. Young mothers, exhausted and overstretched. Carers of people with special needs who understood my background instantly. People dealing with divorce, illness, grief, loneliness—all manner of private struggles they'd share while we talked about bath bombs.

Lush gives its staff something radical: the power to gift. When you see someone who needs kindness, you can offer them a free sample. Not because it's a sales tactic, but because it's right.

I've watched faces transform when you do this. A compliment, genuinely meant. A small kindness, freely offered. A moment of real connection in a world that's increasingly self-centred and transactional. These tiny acts create ripples. The customer feels seen. The staff member feels purposeful. Everyone wins.

And yes, we have targets. But here's the thing—you want to reach them. Not for the reward, though that's lovely. You want to achieve them because you're motivated by something bigger. Giving people an experience that makes them feel valued.

You can see it in the customer reviews. Mine, along with other colleagues', are testaments to the gratitude Lush shoppers express toward us. That kind of feedback means everything when you're still finding your feet.

A Company With A Conscience

Look, I hear some of you saying it already—come on, Lush isn't perfect. And you're probably right. But here's the thing: they'll tell you that themselves. Mark Constantine, the co-founder, has openly said, "We're not that good. Everybody is going to make mistakes." There's something refreshing about a CEO who doesn't pretend to have all the answers, who admits when things go wrong and works to put them right.

What strikes me most—and maybe it's because I've spent my whole working life caring about people—is that Lush actually tries to make a difference. Since 2007, they've raised over £100 million for grassroots organisations. Not big charities with fancy offices. The small groups nobody else funds. Over 19,000 donations to people fighting for human rights, animal protection, environmental justice.

When you work somewhere that believes commerce can be a force for good, it transforms how you feel about what you're doing. Ethics and profit aren't opposites in this place. Transparency, honesty, fairness—they run through every decision. From the ingredients to how they treat staff like me.

What It Means To Be Fifty-Six And Starting Again

After the Christmas frenzy died down, January offered me something I desperately needed. Time to breathe. Time to reflect on the products, to learn without the pressure. And with the help and support of the team, I've finally got to grips with the names and ingredients-and so much more. The things that seemed impossible to remember in December are becoming second nature now.

When you hand someone a sample of Sleepy shower gel and chat with them about their insomnia, you're not just having a retail interaction. You're offering them a glimpse of how the world should operate. People caring for each other, even strangers. Transactional encounters in retail mean so much more to me now than they ever did before.

The young people I collaborate with have been a revelation. Creative. Hardworking. Committed to the principles Lush represents. They're often given terrible press by media that loves to stereotype generations, but these students and younger permanent staff are the real credit to this company.

My age hasn't been a barrier. It's been an asset. The life I've lived, the empathy I've developed supporting vulnerable students, the patience teaching requires—all of it matters here. Lush's staff policies recognise that diversity isn't just about ticking boxes. It's about building teams where everyone brings something different.

What Lush Has Given Me

I'm not sure how long I'll be at Lush. Initially, this was meant to be a stepping stone—a temporary thing while I figured out my next move. But it's been so much more than that.

Lush has kickstarted my self-confidence. Restored my self-belief. By seeing my worth reflected back at me—in customers who thank me, in the team who support me (and whom I support), in reviews that say I've made a difference—I've started to believe in myself again.

Yes, we're encouraged to smile. But here's what matters: the smiling comes naturally. When you're surrounded by products that smell of gardens and oceans, when you're employed by a company trying to make the world better, when your team supports you and customers appreciate you—the joy is real.

I'm fifty-six years old. I've left a career spanning over two decades. Cried from frustration and danced from success. I've learned that post-menopausal brains can absorb new information at pace, even when they're fuzzy and forgetful. Discovered that retail communities can be as meaningful as staffrooms. That starting again isn't failure—it's courage.

Whatever the future holds, I will always be grateful for my time at Lush and what it's given me. The conviction to keep moving forward. The self-assurance to consider that whatever age you are, there are possibilities. New things to learn. And you can be successful, however big or small that may be.

Lush at Cribbs Causeway offered me more than a job. They restored my confidence. Showed me that age is irrelevant when you bring heart to your endeavours. Proved that business can be ethical, joyful, and profitable all at once.

And every time I tie on that black apron, I'm grateful for the opportunity that grasped me like a mother holds a child—and for the community that wouldn't let me fall.

P.S. I've written this because I wanted to. Not because someone paid me!