The Sick Smoggy

This Smoggy has had it with the Industrial Age

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

Very new to blogs and certainly very new to websites or at least trying to create my own, I have decided to get good with money. As I learn I am going to teach. I have been absorbing as much content as possible over the last 6-7 months and will continue to do so until I get my house in order.

I am basically a contractor destined to work until his 70s or at least I was. Excuse my French but I am pissed off with being poor with money and sick of having to work away from home to earn money to maintain my current lifestyle. My main focus over the last few years has been to earn good money and keep learning so I can earn more money. The problem with this is that although my career has been ok so far, I am nowhere near where I want to be and having one source of income is risky.

The problem is too many of us still live in the industrial age. Times have changed and there is no longer guaranteed work at the local steel works and the government can no longer look after us with big fat pensions. Where I come from is a Heavy Industrial Town and we are known as ‘Smoggy’s’. Can you guess where I am from?

To get things started I am going to take a trip down memory lane (10 ish years ago) and show you a reason for change:

Struggling to earn a living as a contractor, I was working most weekends just to bump my wages up. The man I was working with at the time was a lovely man named Frank who was excellent at his job and had been a contractor all his life. He was 64 and 12 months from retiring.

On one particularly cold morning (-8 Degrees Celsius) we were working at the top of the Module (Gas Module for Offshore) outside. This was a Sunday and was the last place I wanted to be. We were both working all the hours God sent and were trying our best to keep our spirits up. Due to the hours we were working and the fact that we worked in heavy industry, you could say we were Industrial maniacs. This is a common name given to workers who work every hour they can.

This life and this situation was bad enough for a 25 year old (me) but I really did not like to see old Frank struggling away at his age. It would be worth it for old Frank as his big plan was to take his wife of 45 years to their villa in Spain (a villa he had proudly told me that was just about paid off). I decided on that cold Sunday morning that I had to do something different, I refused to be working all the hours into my 50s and 60s.

To make matters worse for old Frank, things didn’t pan out as he was hoping. He did get to retire at 65 but he didn’t get to retire in the sunset with his wife. Sadly, his wife had a massive stroke and he became her full time carer in England. His dreams were shattered. Thinking of him happily practicing his Spanish on me at work almost brings a tear to my eye. I often think of old Frank and his dream of a happy retirement.

This makes my desire for change all the greater.

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