Early working life

My rush to join the ranks of the employed definitely clouded my judgement, and by the age of fifteen all I wanted was to be earning. The truth is, I wasted my educational opportunities and what talent I did have, but that was entirely my choice and at that stage of my life I genuinely believed it was the right move for me. I believed wholeheartedly that hard work, commitment, and a positive attitude towards anything I did would facilitate my progress and allow me to grow professionally. Little did I realise that life is very different and that effort alone is seldom, if ever, enough.

Initially, I really enjoyed being out of the classroom environment, having money in my pocket, and didn’t even mind my fingertips being rubbed raw by handling breeze blocks all day. My gaffer, Geordie Reid, was a really outstanding tradesman; I used to look on in amazement as he ran the cats-head hammer around a block, tapped it gently, and it split apart like it was a slab of butter. He would show me, let me try and then walk away laughing as the mound of cement dust particles blocked me from view. I didn’t mind this tough love thing, it just made me more determined to have mastered the technique by the time he returned, which I usually did.

Life on a building site is hard, but when the sun is shining, it’s a great place to be; sadly, as most people are aware, that doesn’t last too long in the north east of Scotland. The winter months were murder, rain, sleet, and snow on a never ending cycle. This was painful, but you do get used to it. The bit that made me re-assess my career choice was the point at which I was continually being left to my own devices whilst the others were moved to another site, as the business needed to clear a work backlog. In some ways, it was a compliment, but as a first year apprentice, building without the supervision required drove me to distraction. It wasn’t because I didn’t think it was right that I should be mixing cement, erecting scaffolding, lugging breeze blocks, and then building unsupervised, well not that alone, but because I didn’t want to be responsible for a barn collapsing on somebody’s head in the future. I spoke to my gaffer about my concerns and it seems he wasn’t at all happy with the situation, but the company wouldn’t allow him to make a change.

Cementing my future

The next day was a typical Aberdeenshire April “shower” with freezing rain hammering down as I went about my business. “Wait a minute” I thought, this is dead time for me; I’m not learning anything, potentially building a death trap that may fall on top of people, and despite having made representation on my frustration, the company felt it was acceptable to pursue this practice. I might have wasted my education, but wasting my life, living with no ambition, and accepting this lack of care just wasn’t right. So, I headed down the ladder and made for the company office. “This is nonsense” I said to the manager, reciting my concerns, but it was clear he had no interest in listening to my worries, or taking my points seriously. “Oh you’ll get used to our ways” he said with a wry smile on his face. “I don’t think I want to” I said, before telling him I resigned; he probably hadn’t heard such a thing from an apprentice before, as he turned to me and said “OK, enjoy the walk home”, which was twelve miles away (in the rain…).