We didn’t have a bathroom – just a bucket. No heating, no carpet, just a tin shed and a family doing the best we could with what we had. I remember counting coins for food, pretending not to notice the sadness on my mum’s face.
That childhood taught me lessons no business degree ever could. I learned how to stretch a dollar, how to read people, and how to keep going when it all felt too much. Back then, I didn’t see hardship as a disadvantage – I saw it as training.
Fast-forward to years later: I’m walking into a tender room. Suits, spreadsheets, and polished presentations filled the space. The air was heavy with assumptions. A woman in civil construction? With three kids at home? They didn’t know where to place me.
But here’s the truth – I wasn’t there to be placed. I was there to succeed.
I wasn’t the loudest bidder. I was the most prepared. I knew every clause, every spec, every detail. And I delivered. Not by undercutting, not by bravado, but by being dependable, strategic, and precise.
One panel member once told me, “We didn’t know what to make of you, but we couldn’t forget you.” That was all I needed to hear. I wasn’t there to fit in. I was there to change the game.
Lessons From the Tin Shed to the Tender Room
- Your beginnings don’t define you – they refine you.
- Underestimation is fuel. Let people think you won’t, then prove you did.
- Polished pitches don’t win tenders. Precision and preparation do.
If you’ve ever been told you don’t belong, remember this: your past is your edge. The things that shaped you – the mud, the mess, the setbacks – are the very tools that prepare you for the rooms you’ll one day walk into.
Don’t hide them. Bring them with you. That’s where your strength lies.
— Kim-Louise Liddell, The DirtBossTM
