What it’s like to be a human billboard

When most people decide on a career path, holding a sandwich board for hours on end in the busy streets of London doesn’t come to mind. But for hundreds of Eastern Europeans in the UK this is their means of life and for today, it’s also mine. It’s Thursday lunchtime in Bond Street and I’ve been standing outside Subway alone for an hour. I am fed up already, my feet and right arm are hurting and the waft of freshly baked bread filtering through the fans of the restaurant is testing my endurance.

The job isn’t as easy as I thought. Earlier I’d drifted into a daydream and my board swung round much to the amusement of the lady selling the Evening Standard, who informed me that the arrow was pointing away from the restaurant. Numerous tourists have asked me for directions, which I have failed to give, making me feel inadequate. A tad overdressed in a black suit, most people are looking me up and down instead of looking at the board and I’m also trying to ignore the odd sleazy comment from passers by such as, “Can we have you in a sandwich” (courtesy of two traffic wardens). Overall, I feel out of place and in the way as people bump into me and duck underneath the sign.

Scouring the streets this morning hadn’t filled me with much confidence in the human billboard trade. One employer asked me for a CV, which made me wonder what sort of credentials I would need to hold a sign. A strong bicep and a meaty grip? Having been turned down by two internet cafes, a beauty salon and a tanning parlour I was pleased to spot an abandoned sign leaning against the wall outside Subway. After meeting the manager and negotiating a wage of a free sandwich, cappuccino and unlimited cookies, here I was.

I’m joined by Audrius, a 41-year old Lithuanian man who would usually be in my shoes but instead is handing out flyers. Unlike most of the other boarders I’d met today he was brimming with enthusiasm, with a refreshingly cheery smile, his two gold teeth glinting in the sun. He is treated well by his employers, working 10am to 6pm five days a week for just over £5 an hour with free meals included.

Audrius speaks little English but we’re managing to understand about half of what each other are saying and exaggerated hand signals compensate for the rest. He tells me he is lucky because his sign isn’t too big and heavy and he is allowed to sit inside if it rains. Further down the road police stopped two Polish boarders as their signs were too large and could hurt passers-by if they blew over in the wind. It seems the Council are cracking down on obstructions on the pavement. “I say to Council, ‘Can I have small chair to sit down’,” says Audrius in broken English, “They say no. So sometimes I get tired.”

Six months ago Audrius came to London and, after asking around for jobs, started boarding, leaving behind his wife and baby in Lithuania. He is grateful to be earning but misses his family, which he signifies by wiping pretend tears from under his eyes. Next year, he hopes they will come to the UK if Lithuania joins the EU. “Now, everywhere in London you see Polish,” says Audrius who explains that it is relatively easy to come to England and find a job than it is in other areas of Europe such as Spain and Holland.

Sometimes working here, Audrius attracts unwanted attention. To my horror a pubescent thug runs past, hitting him on the back of his head, while filming it on his mobile phone. Apparently used to this kind of treatment, Audrius is unfazed saying, “The young ones are the trouble. They don’t care”.

The mood is lightened as the manager brings out a table of cookies to give to the public. Suddenly crowds of people swarm on us and the queue into the restaurant extends out the door. It’s down to Audrius’ charm, making jokes and chatting. The more he speaks to people, the more English he learns, improving his chances of finding a better career.

Audrius admits there are few prospects in this job but says he wouldn’t want the stress and strain of working in an office. “Everyone has too much money but not many are happy,” he says. “They all smoke and drink too much”. Audrius has surprised me as he is remarkably astute and incredibly observant. He is right; we have overcomplicated our lives. Spending time doing such a straightforward job and beginning to enjoy it shows me that there’s definitely something to be said for a simpler existence.

I became a human billboard as part of the Press Cadets competition for the Press Gazette.