what was your road to damascus life changer ?

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by jesse, Nov 21, 2010.

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  1. :? I,m not sure where to post this topic so when in doubt go for Lils. I'd left the mob and took up trucking,ahhh the freedom and the glory of the open road. That feeling lasted a week, then it was a constant race against time and depended on the mood of some thick loading bay cnut whether you got home that night. :x Anyway I worked my way up through the pecking order from shunter to tramp and reached the dizzy hights of ;-pause for fanfare and drum roll," Night Trunker" With a regular run which I soon adapted to suit me :!: Trucks were very basic back in the day, double de clutching [I used to catch myself doing it in my car] the heater was a sheet of news paper placed on the radiator small tape player recorders had just come on the market so I had a stash of rock n Roll and Johnny Cash tapes, what we would call tiddly, and arrse alley gear . 8) I slept at home every day and was free from Sat.a.m untill 2200hrs. Monday the wages were not too bad and I was fairly content :eek: Back then the transport side of Keel Services was seperate from the main block. I pulled in at about 0430 hours for a cuppa and had a revelation 8O I noticed a driver who appeard to be in his 60s he was worn out and knackerd rolling ciggies with grease grimed fingers and nails. it was like being sucker punched in the liver :( [I've experienced that as well] A voice called to me "That could be you in years to come" At home I considered my options :? I made applications to the Police and the Prison Service and the Prison Service replied first. the rest is History. So :!: That was my road to Damascus revelation. What was yours :?:
  2. When I left the mob I did a resettlement course that would allow me to compile the dreaded home information packs. I slotted into a fairly nice job as a result. I was earning good dosh (up to £500 on a good day) I had a nice car allowance and the work was essentially a piece of piss. The only thing that didn't really float my boat where the ridiculously long distances I had to drive and the fact that I would get home at around 7 each night with around 4 hours of computer work still to do.

    One particular day, the office had decreed that it would be a top idea for me to go to a job in Northampton, followed by a job in Canterbury, followed by another job in Northampton, followed by another job in Kent. I attempted to do a little juggling and do the two Northampton jobs side by side and the Kent jobs side by side, this would save me around 380 miles of driving. Unfortunately the times had been set with the clients and on this particular day they wouldn't/couldn't re-schedule.

    So I set out that morning seriously pissed off and got to the first job in Northampton. The clients were Daily Mail reading idiots, with a severe hatred for me and my trade from the off. Try as I might to explain myself, the bigoted fcukwits just gave me shit for the whole hour or so I was at the property. This served to piss me off further as I continued on to the next job in Canterbury, an ex council hovel that a hoarder had died in. The body had clearly been rotting in situ for a while as the place absolutely stank.

    To cut a long story short, the day didn't get any better, I got pulled by plod, had a barney with the missus and the auto box on the car started playing up, then my petrol card was declined and I had to have my photo taken and be questioned in a service station as I had no other means to pay. I finally got home at around 9 that night, fcuked off beyond belief and ready to murder anyone who crossed my path. I fcuked off the paperwork that evening and phoned up work the next day explaining that the car was playing up so I wouldn't be in. They said they'd send me a hire car to do the work in so I waited expectantly for a nice executive saloon to turn up.

    Eventually the hire car arrived and it was a Nissan Note, yes that's right my company were expecting me to drive 3-400 miles a day in a granny shopping wagon. That pushed me over the fcuking edge and I told them where to ram their shitty job.

    As luck would have it, I quit about a week before the property market took a serious nose dive into oblivion. A few of my oppos from the resettlement course struggled on with it, but within a month there was fcuk all work and all the HIP companies had gone bust. I was unemployed and loving it for about 2 months until I decided it was time to find a job. Instead of trawling through websites, I decided I would send my CV to people I wanted to work for, that way I would only get a job I wanted as opposed to one that sort of fitted the description.

    Within days the Chairman of my present firm gave me a bell, we had a chat over a pint and he offered me a top line job there and then. The rest, as they say, is history.
  3. hasnt happened yet - but i'm guessing that it could next september when i am made rendundant. one year of doing feck all.

    back to college whilst getting my redundancy insurance payout and then a cushy civvy number
  4. Left the mob in September 2008 after 12 years on the p1ss. Just in process of joining RM's to see off my last 6 years! Now that's a fcuking life changer.

    And all to get away from my Mother in law!
  5. Mine was this one time, when I was on my way to Damascus to collect some tax's.

    The rest (as they say) is history ............
  6. FlagWagger

    FlagWagger Book Reviewer

    Mine, by proxy, was coming to Canada. When I first mooted the idea, Mrs FW was mightily unimpressed to say the least! She decided to give the move a chance so we sold up fully in the UK but had an escape route, if needed, by coming over on a 12 month contract which offered to pay full relocation back to the UK at the end of the contract if I so desired. Less than 4 weeks after arriving here Mrs FW informs me that if I so much as think of returning to the UK at the end of the 12 months she would be even less impressed with me than she had been at my original suggestion to come over. 4 1/2 years later, we're in the final stages of becoming Canadian citizens, have picked up the local lingo, eh, and are avid watchers of ice hockey, a team sport that makes even professional rugby look tame.
  7. getting my change in a greasy spoon cafe realising it was a lizard serving me then realising I was taking too many recreational drugs and a degree in Applied Geophysics wasn't gonna be the way forward

    Fast forward a year, a railway station with waggling 30 foot ropes and an arrse going 5 pence dustbin lids
  8. Came outside 3 years ago totally institutionalised after 35 years, wanted to live the dream and fcuk off abroad pickle myself on red wine and nice cheese.
    Then everything went pear shaped no jobs, strong Euro and house prices down the shitter. Applied half heartedly for a few jobs but I'm a lazy cnut now and my pension pot frizzled away. Lots of other baggage left over from my last years in the pusser which I won't dwell on here dirty washing and all that but I went into town one day and so all these scruffy stinking feckers drinking special brew and cheap cider at 9am and thought fcuk there's a real chance if I don't pull my finger out things are going to go downhill.
    Mrs S truly pissed off with me at home all day wallowing in self pity and angry at every cnut especially myself.
    I went onto the Jobcenter website and ticked every fcuking box to see what was on offer, applied for UK Borders Agency passed selection for the South West area and they offered me fcuking Poole £25000 a year and pay for my own accom told em to shove it, went back and found the job I do now, started my own company work at most 2-3 half days a week and with my pension earn more than I did as a WO1.
    Happier now than when I was in miss the mates but thats all thank fcuk for the tramps (probably most ex service anyway)
  9. Came out the mob having drifted from seaman to MA. Took a trip overseas and "worked" in my native Australia for a sharp spell. I finished my employ there and decided I missed the UK so came back. Again drifting from job to job, I worked night clubs, and then like Jesse went wagon driving. Was earning fantastic amounts of dosh but no life. Took a PSV licence and tried driving buses, hated it. Tried coaching, hated it, so finally I went to my old mans firm. (Gunsmiths.)
    One day I was sat in a traffic jam on the Aston expressway thinking where the fuck am I going, and what am I doing? I was always earning "top dollar" but never satisfied with anything around me.
    I went and joined up as an ambulance driver and took my paramedics courses and passed quite easily due to "pussers" training.
    I then volunteered and was accepted for trauma training specialising in gun shot, and stabbing wounds. I passed out and volunteered for an overseas appointment and was accepted, it going full cycle and landing me back in the UK.
    Unfortunately I was stabbed whilst attending a stabbing (irony) and suffered a myocardial infraction critical, thus ending my career. Psychiatric reasons not Physical. On the bright side 9 other patients died of the same that night in my catchment area so hey ho.

    Road to Damascus revelation??? definitely!

    Died twice (technically) that night, for a time.
    NO white lights to walk towards, NO heavenly host beckoning, and definitely NO angels lurking with harps or escorts to the fluffy place.

    Found out that night what you think you are, how important you think you are, what you have, what you don't have, none of it means jack shit when you're staring into nothingness. And if you think you already know this, you don't, not until you've stared into oblivion up close and personal. As long as you are alive the only person you are better than is the dead fucker next to you, and that's all you will ever have to make you superior to another body, the ability to breath.
    And as any medic on this site will concur, the rich and pious scream exactly the same as the poor and godless when they are in the blood wagon with blue lights and sirens. Piety never saved anyone outside of a bible story, I did.
    Its like grandma always said, ain't no pockets in a shroud. :D :D :roll: :wink:
  10. Don't think I've had a 'Damascus Moment'. If I have the wife hasn't told me yet!!!!!!

    Life's really good since leaving the mob. Quiet, boring, but sane.

    Rum Ration - what a life. I was tempted to go down the paramedic route, after your tale - I'm glad I settled for mundane and dull.

    So many nutters out there. Hats off to all the emergency services, you do/have done a brill job.
  11. Very true and wise words Rummers.
  12. Being made redundant from my last firm. Finally gave me the chance to pass my law exams, now not far off being a solicitor :sunny:
  13. Well hurry up and qualify, I may well need one very soon. :D :wink:
  14. She said solicitor, not undertaker :wink:
  15. sgtpepperband

    sgtpepperband War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    PM me your details - I know plenty of Messdeck Lawyers who seem to think they know everything... :roll: :wink:
  16. Undertakers are for you poor white trash, the rich use Funeral directors and we use a shovel and waste ground. Simples. :D :wink:
  17. Lol funny that my road starts with the prison service. As a lowly 9 year "sprog" on 35-40k a year I am quite prepared to move to the navy for a considerable change in lifestyle!.

    the jobs fucked as they say.
  18. Seaweed

    Seaweed War Hero Book Reviewer

    Waste ground rummers? I thought the drill was to use the back yarrd & then buy a 4 x 6 shed and give it a good thick concrete base. I mean, new lino in the kitchen is a bit of a give-away.
  19. My road is slowly leading me towards the navy, which other then Bond509, seems to be against the flow of traffic.

    Long story short, life must have more to offer then a desk job.
    Working where I am now, there are people here in their mid 40's to mid 50's who have been here for 10ish years and stay for the money and ease of work, not for the job satisfaction or greater purpose of the role.
    Dealing with people in the financial industry has made me realise there are some really boring people in the world who go from one months salary to the next, only concerned with where their next fun in the sun holiday is going to be.

  20. Trade secrets and the like Seaweed, I'll be thrown out the brotherhood. :cry: 8O :wink:
    Did I ever tell you about my new patio?...

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