Why these jobseekers are an inspiration to us all
For those worrying that empathy seems in short supply these days, Employable Me (BBC Two) was television to warm the cockles. The premise remained unchanged from the first series: a group with a variety of disabilities are guided, over six months, back into a job market that had comprehensively rejected them. The two in focus here were at different stages of their working lives, yet both hitting dead ends. Ryan, 22, had Tourette’s so severe that he had been fired from his retail job and unemployed ever since. Six years ago, Andy, the director of a motorsport company, had a stroke. Now 52, he was out of work, partially paralysed, his speech badly affected by aphasia.
Turtle-loving Ryan’s condition was inevitably and unavoidably hilarious at first, as he unveiled a repertoire of insults from the vituperative (“coffin dodgers!”) to the surreal (“organic cucumber!”), yet the laughter died in my throat as its severity became abundantly clear. The toll of his physical and verbal tics, and his efforts to contain them, was utterly draining; one fit was so violent it left him with a broken arm.
So desperate was Andy to prove his worth, having felt suicidal in the past, he had applied in vain for more than 1,000 roles, from board level to cleaner. He was now considering a career in motivational speaking founded on his struggles to walk and talk again. His wife worried that “he wants to be the person that he once was”, and indeed his early efforts betrayed both an excess of ambition and a lack of preparedness.
If it hadn’t been for the soundtrack of rippling xylophones and pizzicato strings, I might have feared the worst for both of them. Under the guidance of occupational psychologist Nancy Doyle, Andy focused his methodology and Ryan wangled a trial day at an animal aquatic centre. As is customary, early optimism gave way to setbacks and reality checks, until the airpunching climax.
Accordingly, Ryan got the gig at the aquatic centre, while Andy secured a job in fundraising. It was inspiring and chastening: television as much about its viewers as its subjects, it challenged perceptions and proposed that we should redesign society rather than redesign individuals. Whether those same employers would have made the job offers without the presence of television cameras is moot, but this was a heartwarming, encouraging demonstration of how destigmatisation benefits us all.
‘People love to hate me,” reckoned Paul Hollywood in A Baker’s Life (Channel 4). Maybe not so much after this new series, quite deliberately aimed at softening his image. For a man accused of an occasionally inflated sense of self, he was able to demonstrate hitherto unsuspected depths of self-awareness and even humility. He chuckled self-consciously while watching his faltering Great British Bake Off audition and spoke of his early scepticism about the “very cute” show. Prue Leith discussed his “squidgy centre”. Sandi Toksvig recalled gazing into his eyes: “I suddenly felt a little frisson that I’ve not felt for some years.” This was a man, not a monster. A berk, not a bastard. A cook, not a… You get the idea.
The much-trailed behind-thescenes peeks at Bake Off brought few surprises (they wear make-up, they fluff their lines), while the recipes were fine, if unremarkable, and lent some excitement by the context: roulade was presented to former contestants Selasi Gbormittah and Val Stones as a tent challenge, burgers were made trackside with Hollywood’s teammates in racing sports cars, his chief extracurricular interest.
It was cosily soporific, although the old flintiness did surface from time to time. He was understandably defensive about the pasting he took for “following the dough” to Channel 4 with a show which was, after all, his livelihood.
“For the three of them to walk away from me and walk away from the tent,” he spluttered, affronted, “it felt like they’d abandoned the Bake Off… Why am I getting called a traitor? I work for the production company, not the BBC, my job hadn’t changed.” His erstwhile tent buddies were a “dysfunctional family”, in contrast to “a genuine love” among his current ones.
It was explosive stuff. Or it would have been, had it been broadcast back in August. Now, with the cauldron of Bake Off a few weeks distant, the main accomplishment of A Baker’s Life was to provide some valuable if inadvertent perspective on the hysteria. Not that we really cared that much.
Employable Me ★★★★
Paul Hollywood: a Baker’s Life ★★★