Heart and Hustle: What it takes to make it to the top

Then, when I was six years old, my dad was deported.

It came as a total shock. One night there was a frantic knocking at the door and a team of policemen came through the house to find my dad, before taking him away like a thief in the night. I can still clearly picture my mum sitting on the stairs pleading to deaf ears, while my sister and I sobbed. We didn’t know that it would take another six years, a court case, and much sweat and tears until our father would be back with us.

Now I’m older, I understand what happened. My dad was essentially an illegal immigrant: he had outstayed his student visa and was working, but he hadn’t applied for permanent residency. It was a mistake that caused a lot of pain, but that ultimately made us all a lot more resilient, as I’ll explain.

Learning to hustle

Now, with Dad gone, we were on our own. When I think back on it, my mum could have let what had happened break her, but she didn’t. She’s about five foot, with a huge smile and doll-like eyes, completely ‘butter wouldn’t melt’. But, let me tell you, she’s a force to be reckoned with: the most amazing example of hustle and heart.

Back then, Mum worked as a cleaner. From offices to trains, she put in the shifts, getting up in the early hours for 5 a.m. starts on some days, and trudging home after 10 p.m. finishes on others. And, while we were at primary school, my sister and I learned to put in the shifts, too. I suspect this might be considered very illegal nowadays. However, when you don’t have an option, sometimes you just do what you have to. Because Dad had been deported, my sister and I had to go everywhere with our mum, as she really wanted to avoid leaving us home alone.

So, at four o’ clock in the morning, with sleep in our eyes and our school uniforms already on, the two of us would often go with Mum to clean offices in London. My sister and I would vacuum, wash the dishes and wipe down the surfaces – we weren’t very big, but we were strong. We would put in the work then, after we had locked up the offices, Mum would take us to school. This, of course, was a secret, and somehow (maybe it was Mum’s stern looks) we knew that that part of our lives wasn’t meant to be known. We’d already had an experience with the authorities and, deep down, I think we were scared that they might take our mum away like they had our dad. So we kept quiet about this part of our lives, playing at school just like all the other children.

Over the following years, I watched my mum elevate herself. She had a secondary school education and not much else, but while she still worked as a cleaner, she also began training as a nurse. She would read and study when she could and, in between her shifts and training, rustle up meals for my sister and me. Somehow Mum knew how to make a meal using basic ingredients like corned beef and packet noodles taste gourmet. Though we never had a lot in terms of material things, we never felt we lacked. There was so much love that we always felt comfortable.

Meanwhile, we were moving from council house to council house. To be honest, these places weren’t great. The three of us dealt with racists, being attacked by a neighbour’s dog, and the day-to-day struggle of living in what were just downright dodgy locations. Eventually, in a huge stroke of fortune, the council housed us in a lovely two-bedroom flat with carpets, freshly painted walls and even a new bunk bed that my sister and I could share. Our neighbours were relatively normal – in fact, some of them were even nice! We felt that things were on the up in our world.

At the same time, I know it was far from easy for my mum. During that time, we’d speak to Dad every week on the phone, and we visited Nigeria twice to see him while the court case was under way to try to bring him back. For years, this placed huge pressure on Mum, who just wanted to have her husband home. Since she was now working as a nurse, doing all the shifts she could, my sister and I were often at home alone. There were a few things we always knew we mustn’t do – instructions drilled into us to keep us safe. Above all, we knew not to open the door or the curtains.

And yet, Mum turned it around. Because while she was busy working all those hours, she was also saving. Eventually, she got together enough money to be able to buy the flat we were now living in off the council for £17,000 (this was in 1997). I remember the number clearly: she was rightly proud and let my sister and me know. We felt like millionaires, to own our home. Years later, after the property market went crazy, she was able to sell that flat for £250,000! Off the back of that, she bought our next home and decided to learn how to invest in property. It wasn’t long before she had created her own property portfolio. With more than ten properties under her belt in seven years, she was able to become self-employed and set herself and her family up for the future. She had grinded – that’s the only word for it! – her way to success.

I was in secondary school by the time Dad returned. I don’t know why it took so long, but I remember being at court when the authorities finally ruled on his case. The judge said, ‘I can’t see why this man is not allowed to be with his wife and two children.’ The upshot was that he was given permission to come back, permanently. Finally, we had our dad home. It had been a long journey. But despite that setback, my dad had continued to develop himself while he was out of the country. After getting his printing degree, he had even published some non-fiction books. On his return to the UK, things had changed significantly in that world, so he went on to study law and work within the immigration services – the irony! (I draw qualities from both parents: my dad’s more academic, whereas my mum’s a hustler. Put it together and you get me, in the middle.)

The blueprint for my success

Despite things often being difficult, I can’t regret the lessons of those tough years. Through all my childhood experiences, I had been learning something that has shaped the path of my whole life: that it’s within your own power to change your situation. Mum showed me, through her example, that what you expect of yourself is usually what you will achieve. Her limitations and the circumstances of her life were mere obstacles to work around – it wasn’t so much that she didn’t see them, but she simply didn’t focus on them.

Similarly, it might not seem like you’re on the road to success – perhaps you sure as hell don’t fit the traditional mould of someone who’s on their way up – but who cares? A stranger watching my mum graft away on her cleaning shifts, kids in tow, would have struggled to predict where she’d end up. And this is something that, even today, motivates me throughout my journey: the truth is, whether your path to your goals looks like it’s ‘supposed’ to look doesn’t matter. As you’ll learn from the stories I’m going to share, there have been many occasions where it looked like the odds were stacked against me, but I’ve achieved goals anyway – and you can, too.

LIFE LESSON: Your past doesn’t have to define your future. As my mum taught me through her hard work and hustle, things don’t have to stay the same: you can change your situation. You can change your life.

I also learned from Mum the power of thought and words. She was – is – always positive about herself and her situation (sometimes, it can seem, to the point of delusion!). That’s why one of my favourite proverbs is, ‘Life and death are in the power of the tongue … so speak life’. What that means to me is that the spoken word is incredibly powerful: you have to speak positively to yourself. And, in the same way, you have to see the good in your situation and stay hopeful. You never know what your story will be – but, regardless of your situation, if you give in to negative thoughts and put out negative words, negativity will be the result. It’s not ‘fate’, it’s the power of your brain and will: if you don’t think and feel like you can, then you probably won’t. That’s something I’ve held onto over the years, and through every adversity I’ve faced.

We’re all human

There’s one more thing it’s important to remember: the way things are portrayed on social media can have us all seeing things through rose-tinted glasses. In a world filled with meticulously planned feeds and carefully selected, glamorous images, it’s easy to get the impression that other people are living the ‘perfect life’. And those with the most interaction online, with likes and comments streaming in, must be in a great position, right? Well, what I know, and have seen and experienced first-hand, is that behind the attractive photos, upbeat videos and funny status updates, will lie a long, winding journey filled with ups and downs. Everyone has experiences that can’t be corrected with a pretty filter, and that will likely not be shared with the world. That doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. It’s normal and it’s real life. Nowadays, I can look back at my hard times and know they have provided me with the head, heart and hustle (in other words, the mental attitude, the emotional resilience and the ability to grind) that have propelled me along the journey I am on today.

I’ll give a few examples. At one point, I didn’t have any friends. At another, I was made redundant from my job in the City. I also broke up with Mike, the man I thought was going to be my ‘forever guy’ (he’s now my husband, so go figure!). Another time, I quit my job to be a full-time YouTuber and that didn’t work out so well … as you’ll find out. But all those experiences have helped to shape me as an individual and lead me to the place I am at now.

Take the situation with my friends – or lack of them. That came about when, at university, I was sharing a house with a roommate. We didn’t argue, but the atmosphere grew very cold and distant quite quickly. Even today, I can’t pinpoint exactly what the issue was: it was all unsaid, which was harder to resolve. I found solace in the online world. When she’d go out, I’d go straight upstairs and get on to my computer. There, I was able to escape my reality, distracting myself by getting deep into the world of makeup, hair and beauty – things I’d always loved, but had never had anyone to chat to about passionately. I started on a picture-sharing forum for women who wanted to grow their hair, improve their skin, and slay their makeup, where you could also write comments: Fotki, the Reddit of all things beauty. I would spend hours reading through people’s profiles, following their journeys to a greater glow and even longer hair. They would share pictures and then eventually move on to video: that was my fix before Instagram! You could swap tips and share praise. ‘Oh my gosh,’ we’d tell each other, ‘your hair has grown so much. And your skin looks great!’

I wouldn’t let anybody in my real life know that I could spend hours on these forums. How crazy would I sound talking about my weekend with a garlic and mayo scalp mix slathered on my hair, an egg face mask on and sweet potato skins on my eyes? It wasn’t really bragging material. Some people would mix hair-growth stimulants and sulphur with oil! (I don’t recommend you try that.) Or, they’d share unusual ideas such as the inversion method – tipping your head upside down and giving yourself a scalp massage to stimulate blood flow (also a headache). But we hoped an enviable head of hair would result! We’d set ourselves challenges and update each other every day on what we were doing. Looking back, what we were into was pretty niche, but it was amazing to be part of a community of like-minded people. Some people are into computer games and films, some of us are into the finer things in life, like sulphur mixes! All the time, I was tapping away, immersing myself in this world that I loved.

Now that I look back, I think, What the hell was I up to? It does make me laugh. But the people on those forums really did something for me, though they didn’t know it: they saved me when I didn’t have any friends. (And, I do have to say, my hair was so much healthier in my days of mayo masks – really full and thick!) What’s more, my time online back then led me to my career today. I was spending all this time on these forums looking at photos and watching a ton of videos on all things hair and beauty, and eventually fashion-related content too. I had fallen in love – and knew that I wanted to do this. What ‘this’ was I wasn’t sure, but that didn’t stop me. So, while still a student, I bought a cheap camera – you couldn’t just use your phone to film in those days – and started recording.

My first YouTube video was just a minute and a half long, introducing me to the world … or so I hoped. ‘Hi, I’m Patricia. This is my new channel.’ I probably had an American twang, because I was watching so many people who did. ‘I’m going to do fashion,’ I announced. ‘I’m going to do makeup. K, see you, bye.’ That was pretty much it. I was staring into the lens, trying to be quite sultry! Back then, I imitated people I liked, so it wasn’t very me, but that didn’t matter. It was a start.

My second video was a ‘haul’ – which was basically like sitting down with your girlfriends and sharing with them what bargains you were able to pick up at the stores. Back then, I used to go vintage shopping and so I showed off some of the items I had bought. And my third was a DIY, where I put buttons and trims onto a few Primark tops. I remember the moment I finally reached ten views. I was so excited, until I realised it was because I had refreshed the page ten times – they were all my views! Still, I gradually started to get a few people checking me out. I used to comment on other people’s videos, and sometimes they would comment back and watch mine. I’d think, Oh my God, they’ve noticed me! And then, I just kept going … So, although in my real life I was quite lonely, I was connecting in the digital space – and something truly great came of it.

Always remember: you never know how your story is going to turn out. You will go through sticky moments, as I did, and still do, and you might not enjoy every step along the road, but I promise you the results will be worth it. All the good things that have happened for me didn’t happen overnight, or without hard work, but they did happen, and they can for you too. YOU have control! And even when it’s really tough, it’s still not as hard as waking up in five years’ and realising you could have started turning your life around five years ago – but you’re still exactly where you were back then. So buckle up. YOU are in the driving seat!

Let’s make a start – going all the way back to the beginning …

1 (#ulink_8049989e-ca2c-504c-9a54-aac529491f0f) | Natural-born hustler (#ulink_8049989e-ca2c-504c-9a54-aac529491f0f)

Everyone starts from somewhere – and usually it’s not the place where we want to be. As Drake puts it, ‘Started from the bottom’. Most of us, even if we want to build a long-term hustling strategy, start out working for someone else. That doesn’t mean you won’t – like me – eventually become your own boss. Although, funnily enough, I did start out as my own boss …

Growing up grinding

Even before I ever had a job, I was earning money from the age of thirteen. I knew I had to get my hustle on early, because nothing was going to be handed to me on a plate. As a kid, I didn’t get pocket money – I got dinner money, and that was about it. My parents (Dad being back in the UK by this point) weren’t stingy, but they wanted me to learn how to look after what I had. So, I’d be given my £10 or £15 for the week, and then I could do whatever I wanted with it. A lot of it went on McDonald’s pancakes and sausage for breakfast, but I tried to be smart and save at least £2 per week here and there, even if that meant skipping the school lunch and making my own sandwiches at home.

But there was nothing spare to have fun with. I thought that there must be a way to get around this – I didn’t have to be broke. So it was only natural that I decided to use my head and figure out ways to make some cash. I’d taught myself how to do braids and cornrows, having watched my mum do my sister’s hair, and had eventually become the family’s resident hairstylist. For aunties and cousins, I was the go-to girl, and I loved it. I did hair like it was therapy, and practised a lot on myself. At secondary school, I was beginning to get a lot of attention because of it. Girls would say to me admiringly, ‘Your hair is so nice.’ I’d tell them I did it myself, and they’d ask me to do theirs. Cha-ching! I saw my opportunity and started a little business. I became the playground stylist, and for £5 half a head and £10 a full head, I would do whatever they wanted: zigzags, patterns and other designs. Soon I had regular clients and could make what my parents gave me for a week in a single day. Now I had the extra money I wanted for ice lollies and McD’s pancakes – the finer things in life!

Entering the workforce

I got my first ever job when I was fourteen, delivering kitchenware catalogues and any subsequent orders to houses. Yes, I knocked door to door offering a catalogue listing all the fancy utensils you didn’t know you needed! I’d do this during the school holidays, accompanied by a few other kids from the local area. I don’t know how legal it all was, but we were doing it anyway! The adult accompanying us was a neighbour, a well-respected man in the area who everyone liked, with that ‘Del Boy’ East London charm. Mum was happy to see that we were going out and earning some coin. And so we’d be dropped off from street to street, handing out catalogues one week, delivering orders and collecting payments the next. We earned a pittance in commission from every order that customers made. Despite that, if I worked all summer I could easily make £200 by the end of it, and as a kid that honestly felt like a lot of good, hard-earned money. I was proud.

In fact, I put those summers of work experience on my CV, which helped me to get my first ‘real’ job, in retail. I had just turned sixteen and was at sixth form when a shopping mall opened up nearby in Croydon. It was new and shiny with a super posh department store called House of Fraser. I remember writing up my CV, listing out my skills and of course jazzing up my work experience. All that knocking on doors had to count for something! It had helped me to develop my ‘customer service’ skills, I wrote. Packing up orders honed my ‘organisational skills’, while taking door-to-door cash payments was my ‘financial management’ experience. And just like that, I had myself a job. I’d leave school on a Thursday in my work uniform – occasion wear by Coast, the store I worked at in House of Fraser – so I’d be on the bus in my shiny satin skirt. It really was a look! My working hours were 6 p.m. till 10 p.m. every Thursday, all day Saturday, and occasionally a Sunday.

For the next four years, including part of my time at university, that was my routine. In all honesty, sometimes I hated it. Late-night Thursdays could drag, while in retail the customers are always right (even when they’re not! That’s just how it goes). Being on fitting-room duty wasn’t exactly stimulating, and I often found myself clock-watching. But despite not enjoying it much, it was my hustle at the time, and the company looked after me when I went to university in Manchester. There, I was transferred to Selfridges and when I needed to move again, they transferred me into their new sister store, Oasis. In all, I worked within that company for almost four years. It paid for a whole lot, and kept me busy and potentially out of trouble.

While I was at university in Manchester, I also went back to my secondary-school side hustle. Rather than the playground, my halls of residence and student accommodation were now my shop floor. By that point, I’d taught myself how to do weaves, extensions and even chemical relaxers. I wasn’t a trained salon professional (and I would never advise doing this; people should go to salons to have chemical treatments), but at-home relaxer kits were available and, growing up, I’d never gone to a professional salon to have my treatments. At university there were plenty of students who wanted their hair done, and I took full advantage of this. I had a set rate, the proper kit, and soon a new list of regular clients, some of who would even travel from other cities to see me. For every relaxer, weave or braids I did, I was earning £30, £40, £50 a time, matching what I could make at my part-time job in retail. Growing up, I’d had no idea that not having the money to go to the salon would turn out to be an advantage, forcing me to learn skills that would later help me earn money.

My first business failure

Mind you, my ventures didn’t always work out, because that’s the reality of life and business. Another side hustle I set up was a beauty community. I wanted to bring girls together who loved makeup but couldn’t afford the typical retail prices. I’d found a distributor online that sold MAC makeup and other well-known brands, and I honestly couldn’t believe the prices. While store prices were anywhere between £12 and £15 per eye shadow or lipstick, this guy had these same products on sale for £3. By anyone’s calculation it was a bargain. Even if I sold them for £9 each, I was going to make a profit, right?

So I spent my money on stock, investing a few hundred pounds, which was a lot for me at the time. I printed out flyers and organised a space at the student union for my event. Then, my stock came in. It looked great from afar, but on closer inspection all was not as it seemed. For a start, the spelling on the packaging was wrong: ‘MAC’ was spelt ‘NAC’. That wasn’t all. The labels on the backs of the items didn’t look like the labels on the products you could buy in store, and the colours were all off. I realised I had been ripped off. The products were trash and very, very fake. I learned that day, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. I’d got burned, but I was also growing. Slowly but surely I was developing my skills as a ‘multi-hustler’ – someone with multiple sources of income.

Real-world expectations

I’d already been working, in one way or another, for years when I finished university. But that didn’t mean I was relaxed about the future. I want to take a moment to talk about my university experience – what I was doing when I wasn’t busy with all my jobs and side hustles! So let’s rewind for a second.

When I was at school, it had always been expected that I’d go to university, and, grades-wise, I did OK. In sixth form I studied biology, chemistry, psychology, business studies – all academic subjects, but when it came to applying any of these to real life, I didn’t want to. I wanted to study fashion! After all, it was my passion, right? I found a fashion and marketing university course, which got me super-excited. Initially my parents were a bit unsure about it: ‘Fashion? You don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer?’ But I wasn’t deterred. It was full steam ahead (well, for a season at least!).

But early on in that course, I realised it wasn’t for me. I was hating it! My passion was fashion, but not in that context. I didn’t connect with the people on my course and, more importantly, I didn’t warm to the subject matter in the university setting. My expectations simply didn’t match reality. In one class, a group of us designed a single shirt with four seams. I thought, What the hell is this? I didn’t want to make clothes or cut out patterns. At the same time, I found out the graduate salary in the fashion industry at the time was around £10,000 to £12,000 a year – for a starter role at a huge sports brand, for example. I thought, Hold on, can that really be the salary after all these years, not to mention the cost, of university? Hell, no! I had a reality check: it was hard to understand how the salary could be that low, considering the effort and commitment I was going to put in. I remember thinking, This is not enough, especially for what I want to achieve for my future. I couldn’t risk continuing as a fashion student when I wasn’t sure if it would support me or my future family. I needed more security.

Some people are fortunate enough to have parents fund them when they’re getting started. I didn’t have that option. I wasn’t resentful, but I knew that I was going to regret it if I didn’t make a more financially stable choice for my future. In hindsight, my past-life experiences likely contributed to my craving for security. As it happened, one part of the fashion course I did enjoy and found fairly easy was the accounting module. The cogs were turning … I said to myself, You know what? I’m going to do accounting and finance.

The way I see it, life goes in seasons. I figured that if I stuck with the fashion course, it wasn’t going to set me up in the way that I wanted. So I switched, believing that afterwards I’d be able to get a better job, earn more money, and that would provide me with more freedom and opportunities. I wasn’t necessarily going to be an accountant all my life – and, I was right, that’s not what happened – but I wanted to give myself options. I didn’t necessarily love my new course, but I realised my mind really connected with the subject matter. I liked the spreadsheets and crunching numbers – I’m analytical. Changing my path was right for me.

I learned an important lesson through that. When you’re starting off, it’s important to find that sweet spot between your passion, your ability and what’s practical. You don’t have to start off in your dream job or career – most of us have got to pay the bills somehow, right? In the US, young workers now switch jobs on average four times in their first ten years after graduation.

My approach is to think big, and take small steps.

LIFE LESSON: When it comes to life, it’s never a straight line – it’s more like a zigzag! Think of every experience, good and bad, as a stepping stone to the next opportunity.

But Patricia, what should I do?