THE BIG DECISION

Another nauseating Monday morning, the worst day of what would surely be yet another nauseating week of tedious factory life. I walked down the long grey cold concrete drive as slowly as possible, being careful not to trip over my chin as it scrapped dejectedly along the ground before me. I noticed my old friend the dark cloud had claimed his rightful place and was hovering just above my head. Everyone who worked here had one, it came with the job, it was like an imaginary friend who you just knew would be patiently waiting at the gates every morning.

The line of men waiting to clock in reminded me of those poor sad creatures you often see on the telly, you know the ones, in the slaughterhouse, waiting for the inevitable act to happen. They must know what is coming, they must have at least an inkling, but still they obediently wait in line.

As I approached the clock I could hear it ticking, tick Toc, tick Toc, tick Toc, just as it always did. It seemed to be impatiently saying, “come on hurry up I haven’t got all day you know”. I put my time card into the slot, was it my imagination or did the clocks hands visibly slow down? I was in and I knew that seconds would seem like minutes, minutes would seem like hours. As the clock viscously punched its holes into my card. The thud of its mechanism reminded of the sound that rusty old prison gates make as they slam shut and trap the condemned in mates inside their walls. I felt trapped, smothered, although I knew in reality the chains and bars were all in my head. But what could I do? I had a wife and two little kids to provide for.

I walked through the factory towards my position on the dreaded track with my dark cloud in tow. At first glance into the interior of the factory it looked as though a giant robotic spider had haphazardly spun its steal Webb over everything in sight. Metal girders and concrete beams seemed to be scattered everywhere. There were pulleys and chains and bundles of brightly coloured wires weaving in and out of every orifice. Row upon row of machinery glistened in the glare of the artificial lighting. However at second glance you could tell that there was an order to this chaos. All of the machines were placed strategically around what was the heart of the factory, the dreaded track! The track weaved its way right through the centre of the factory and it seemed right through the centre of our lives. Once started it could never be stopped or slowed down, no matter what the circumstances.

I took up my position, just pausing to check that my dark cloud was still in place (no need to worry it was) I then took a deep breath of the damp and musty air. The smell of oil, sweat and depression filled my nostrils. I prayed to myself, “please God, please let this be the day that the track stops, blows up who cares please!) The piercing shrill of the whistle sounded and right on queue the factory burst into life. The track creaked and moaned and then laboursly started to move. The sound of metal hitting metal filled the air. The arc welders struck up there arcs causing the atmosphere to light up with sparks and the smell of burning filled the great halls.

I started my mundane spot welding job and my mind went into its usual trance like state. Now I was on an exotic beach, glass of cold beer in hand. I let the suns hot rays soothe my aching body, as at the same time the cool sea breeze refreshed me. The sea gently lapped against the sand and the palm trees danced in the cool breeze. No artist could ever capture the beauty of this place and no poet could ever describe it, it was my sanctuary, paradise. The piercing shrill of the break time whistle brought me crashing back to reality.

I sat in the canteen eating my cheese and pickle sandwiches, listening to the same old boring conversations. They always started with what was on last night’s telly. It seemed to me that they hated the telly. “It was crap, same old stuff, repeats, why do we pay our bloody licence”? And yet they watched everything. They could tell you every character in every soap and sitcom. Then they would moan about their wives, and how their wives never stopped moaning. They hated their sex lives, mainly because sex was non existent. I wondered if they had ever thought of turning of the telly and talking to their wives. But then what would they have to talk about? Their shitty jobs or even what they might be missing on the telly. Then came the biggest and by far, in my eyes the most annoying moan of all. They hated the factory, “If only I had my time over again, things would be different. I would never end up in a shit hole like this”. But I knew and they knew things wouldn’t be different. This life was all they had known they could leave at any time, but would they? No way. Just at that moment a terrifying thought hit me, if I stayed here I would end up just like them. I was looking into the future, my future, and I didn’t like it, not one little bit. A silent but deafening scream filled my head, I looked up and my dark cloud thickened. Suddenly perhaps out of desperation, an inner strength I had never experienced before shot through my body like a speeding bullet. It was decision time, I could stay here and accept my fate or I could control my own destiny. My past decisions had taken me to the factory and I knew the decisions I made now would shape my future. I had always wanted to become a fire fighter, but could I do it? Was I good enough? I had to try; the rest of the day was spent planning my escape. I decided to study and start a new fitness regime. I felt like a little kid, I had a goal a dream and also a fear, a fear of spending the rest of my working life staring at that vulgar track. I looked up my cloud was now a paler grey and much smaller, I could see the suns rays through the factory roof for the first time ever.

Its eighteen years since I made that decision, I left that factory and worked at two more before successfully becoming a fire fighter. Life in the fire service is as good as I had imagined. It is a pleasure to go to work and every day brings something different. I did it and so can you, its not easy but remember, those that think they can and those that think they cant are both right. Everything starts with a decision, and if you don’t decide to take control of your life then some one else will.

Warm regards:

Anthony Somers

Anthony Somers: Articles

Introduction.

My journey along the seemingly ever merging spiritual and counselling path.

Me and the person in counselling.

Congruence, can I take the risk?

The Big decision.