And the award goes to...

“People used to be content with a bit of recognition,” says Jenny Hillam of Awardco Group, one of the country’s largest manufacturers of bespoke awards and trophies. “Now they want to be seen as ‘the best’.”

There are two traditional awards “seasons” each year, she explains, the first running from January to June, the second from September to December. But, today, awards presentations are increasingly seeping into the summer, as demand for ceremony venues starts to outstrip supply. “We joke that there will probably be a prize for sneezing soon. Even though some of the awards out there may seem meaningless to most people, they mean the world to the winners.”

Adam Gilbert, 36, British Sandwich Association Sandwich Designer of the Year 2007

“The British sandwich industry is worth £3 billion a year. SoHo Sandwich Company, of which I’m MD, probably accounts for about £1 million of that, so we’re a very small fish in a very big sea.

“International Sandwich & Snack News magazine, which is our bible, had an entry form for the competition. We entered a tomato salsa, Spanish chorizo, roasted sweet potato and baby spinach on ciabatta. There’s so much more you can put into a sandwich than cheese, ham or egg mayonnaise – it’s about being inventive.

“The finals were at the Royal Lancaster Hotel in London. I turned up late and there were all these guys from the big-boy companies, with their logoed hats and chef jackets. They had fancy plates and fancy garnishes, and I thought, ‘I have no effing chance here.’ I’d forgotten to bring a plate, fancy or otherwise, so I had to borrow one. But when the judges announced the winners of the different categories, I’d won the national Hot and Spicy Sandwich of the Year. I had to come back in the evening for the black-tie do, where they announced I was the overall winner. I was really chuffed.

“Being Sandwich Designer of the Year does sound a bit funny. What’s so great about a sandwich? But nobody else used chorizo? they all just thought ‘ham and cheese’.”

William Wainman, 39, holder of the Natural Death Centre Award for Best Green Coffin Manufacturer in the UK

“I’m sure some people think the award is something we’ve just made up, but the Natural Death Centre’s a valid organisation that does an enormous amount of very valuable work in terms of helping people come to terms with grief.

“I worked with Voluntary Service Overseas when I left university, teaching English in China. There was so much bamboo there that

it seemed logical to make something out of it, as it’s a sustainable material that doesn’t need to be replanted. We originally imported bamboo furniture, but, one day, we had an inquiry from someone in Carlisle about a bamboo coffin. We ordered a dozen more and soon they were outselling the chairs and tables. It was then that we decided to set up Ecoffins, in Sittingbourne, Kent. We’ve sold well over 10,000 “green” coffins in the seven years since we started.

“People say our coffins look very comforting compared to the harsh-looking, traditional wooden ones we’re all more used to.

We didn’t tell the Chinese craftsmen what they were making at first – we were worried that they might be a bit superstitious, so we said they were baskets for big fish. We’ve recently started painting them with biodegradable emulsions because we’ve had a few requests for bespoke versions, such as a bright pink coffin.

“For my own funeral, I’d have the plain bamboo one. Or maybe I’d have every single one of our coffins lined up the length of the church aisle and you’d have to guess which one I was in.”

Felicity Brown, 23, Convenience Store Magazine Sales Assistant of the Year 2006

“I started working at the Spar in Northgate, Aberystwyth, in my second year at university, where I did English and American Studies. It was meant to be a summer job, just to tide me over, but I enjoyed it so much I decided to go full-time once I’d finished my degree.

“Many people wouldn’t think working in a convenience store is difficult, but, initially, it can be quite challenging. I really object to the view that sales assistants are unintelligent or uninterested. It can be so hard standing behind that counter day in, day out and being cheerful, especially when you’re feeling down. My parents brought me up to be good-mannered. It annoys me when people – be it customers or other sales assistants – don’t say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. I like to think I get my rapport from my grandfather, who owned a butcher’s shop and was excellent at customer service.

“After I’d sent off the entry form, a journalist from Convenience Store Magazine came to the shop to interview me. Later, I found out I’d been selected for the final. Five of us were invited to London to talk to a panel of eight judges. I was delighted to hear I’d come first. The awards ceremony was a lovely chance to get dressed up and stay in a smart hotel. I won £1,000 prize money, too. The award is not only an award for me, it’s an award for the shop, because we’re only small and, like lots of small shops, don’t always get recognised.”

Robert Law, 48, Farmer’s Weekly Farmer of the Year 2006

“The stereotype of a farmer is a thick-set, red-faced man, wearing a checked shirt and a hat of some kind, leaning over a gate, surrounded by dogs, moaning about the weather or complaining that his subsidy has been paid late. I could probably find you someone like that, but there are a lot of modern, business-savvy farmers out there now, and I’d count myself as one.

“When I was 14, my lawyer father decided I ought to earn some pocket money in the holidays by working for a client who was a local farmer. I caught the bug and, by the time I was 16, I knew farming was what I wanted to do. My parents were initially horrified.

“I share-farmed with him until I was 30 and in a position to buy his share of Thrift Farm. I was growing 500 acres of crops and had 600 sheep, didn’t know anyone in this part of Hertfordshire and had no social life. But because there’s never been farming in my family, I could make my own mistakes and learn from them – I’m a risk taker and the majority of farmers are traditionally risk adverse. Today, I have 2,800 acres of crops and 2,500 sheep.

“When Farmer’s Weekly asked for nominations, they weren’t looking just at yields or profit margins but your marketing strategies, how you decided what to grow, your awareness of current issues? your whole ethos. I try to promote a positive image of farming by showing groups round and talking about our conservation work.

“To win the overall award came as a real surprise. It was the greatest moment of my life, I should think.”

Andrew Coath, 35, the British Institute of Innkeeping Licensee of the Year 2007

“I started off in pubs. I worked as a glass collector, progressed to manning the bar and then did relief management when the couple who ran it were away. That’s what directed me to the hospitality trade. I spent time working in hotels, but when I wanted to start my own business, I didn’t have the money to buy a hotel, so I went into partnership with Peach Pubs as licensee of the Swan in Salford, Bedfordshire. People thought we were crazy, setting up in a small village, but we realised it was a desert in terms of gastronomic opportunities – now 70 per cent of our turnover is food.

“I’m not always behind the bar like the typical landlord, who’d probably have the wife in the kitchen while he was out front playing the host. Instead, I go round the pub and chat to the customers. I expect new members of staff to know five locals by name at the end of their first week. People love being recognised, and we have a list behind the bar where we write down their names, reminders of what they look like and their favourite drinks and food.

“I think I’m a strong marketeer, but my partner, Stuart, has a marketing background and it helps to run things past him. He’s very supportive and understands the sacrifices and long hours of the job. You can’t operate pubs remotely – you have to be in there, being entertaining and making sure your staff are delivering service. A mystery diner comes in once a month to maintain standards because consistency is the name of the game.

“The awards shortlist had been whittled down from a huge number of people – there are about 80,000 licensees in the UK – to just six. The ceremony was super, and hosted by Dame Edna Everage. I got a certificate and a cheque for £1,000 and was on the front page of The Publican magazine. The money went towards a well-deserved holiday. When customers see Licensee of the Year on the plaque, it makes them think, ‘Wow! You’re the best in the land.’”

Lindsay Petrie, 28, National Federation of Fish Fryers Young Fish Fryer of the Year 2007

“I won the award last year and my partner, Calum, won it five years ago. You start with a written paper, with questions covering customer service, food hygiene, health and safety, and about how you’d cook the perfect fish and chips. The judges follow that up with a phone interview and then come round and visit your shop in their white coats, carrying their clipboards – it was nerve-racking.

“Our fish and chip shop [The Bay, in Stonehaven, Aberdeenshire] is right on the beach and, the night before they came, it was the spring tide and a wave came right through the shop. I felt the odds were against me, but maybe having to clean the place from top to bottom actually helped.

“We five finalists were invited down to London for the awards ceremony, which was really exciting. I enjoy my job, but when you’re stuck in a shop, it’s nice to get out and do something different.

“The award has helped us become more established locally. Before I won it, we had a good tea-time trade, but now trade in general has increased by 40 per cent, which is a massive boost. The next award we want to go for is Chip Shop of the Year.”

Pam Chalk, 58, Prison Officer of the Year 2007

“It’s no good coming into the prison service if you don’t like prisoners. We’re here to treat them with respect and try to rehabilitate them. It isn’t just about locking them up.

“I’m no youngster and I think I get respect from them because of my age. Some of them jokingly say things like, ‘Hey up – Mother’s here’, but very few of them swear in front of me. Sometimes they’ll come up to me and ask if I have ten minutes to have a chat about something. I can’t solve all their problems, but I can listen and treat them with humanity and dignity. People forget that a small thing to us can be a big thing to them – if they have a family problem, for instance, they can get frustrated because they can’t do anything. One of the most difficult things is when you have to tell them someone they love has died, because they’re devastated but powerless. I know it’s their own fault they’re in prison, but we have to try to do what we can to help.

“I’ve been a senior prison officer at Wealstun Prison in Wetherby for 12 years. A friend in the prison service said I should apply. I told her, ‘I’m not hard enough.’ She said, ‘You don’t need to be hard – you’ve got life skills.’ But getting through training college was tough. I’d come home and ask my husband, ‘What do they want me for, when they’ve got all these fit young lads?’ But I’ve had my own family, who are all grown-up now, so I know how to deal with people.

“Winning the award was a total shock. Apparently, I’d been nominated by the governor and some of the prisoners for the Decency Award, but I won the overall award, too. They put my photo in Inside Times and a lot of the lads said, ‘I’ve seen you in the prison paper, Mrs C!’ Some of the prisoners have come up to me, shaken my hand and said, ‘Well done. You deserve it.’ That means a lot.”

Thomas Wherlock, 20, Hays Contact Centres Temp of the Year 2007

“I’ve never put myself forward for awards – it’s always been other people who have seen that I can shine. When I finished my A levels, I decided I wanted to go straight into work. I went down to the Jobcentre and saw an ad for a Hays job as a temporary IT help-desk adviser for Sitel, in Bristol. I’m into computers, so I applied.

“I enjoyed it – it’s great when someone on the line says, ‘Oh, without you, I’d never have been able to do that’ – and always did what I could to help out. My manager would let me do little extra tasks – she’s the one who’s really helped me get where I am, to be honest. And the thing about a temporary contract is that, if you work hard enough, you’re likely to get a permanent one.

“I didn’t really know much about the award and never expected to be nominated. The first thing I knew about it, some people quite high up in the business came to my desk with a plaque. I thought, ‘Hold on a minute. What’s going on here then?’ They gave me a nice framed certificate and £100 worth of vouchers, which I went on a little spending spree with. Everyone was really happy I’d done well for myself. I’ve recently had a secondment into a supervisory role. I’m very rarely on the phones now.”

Alan Tate, 59, holder of the Kimberly-Clark Professional Golden Service Awards Janitor of the Year

“I’ve been janitor at Collingwood School and Media Arts College in Morpeth in Northumberland for 15 years. I started out as an electrical engineer in north Tyneside before going down south to work for Vauxhall. My wife and I moved back up and ran a pub for three years, then I worked for an engineering firm until it went bust. When I became a caretaker, I never thought I’d be here so long.

“It’s a rewarding job. A lot of the kids have special needs, and making sure the school is a pleasant, tidy environment, instead of a horrible, dirty building with graffiti and mess all over the place, can only help with their learning. People’s perception might be that I’m just there to clean up, but I do ten hours a week as a teaching assistant, too – just a sort of general role, helping look after the children on trips and making sure they’re happy.

“My line manager at Northumberland County Council nominated me for the award. This chap came round, and it’s not like he had white gloves on looking for dust, but he talked to some of the cleaners and asked me a few questions while I showed him around, and it was nerve-racking. Somehow I got shortlisted and was invited down to London to a hotel where the awards were being held. There were waiters going round with sherry and wine and you could mingle and natter with people from all walks of life. I thought I had no chance of winning my category, so, when they read out my name, I nearly fell off my chair. There were hundreds of people clapping, and there was I, flapping about. A few weeks later, my wife and I were invited to the Queen’s garden party – it was absolutely fantastic.

“The award makes me feel like I’m not just some plonker with a broom, or someone who creeps out of the shadows to pick up the rubbish. The plaque I got is in our bedroom. Not up on the wall or anything, but in the corner of the room.”