Taking the jolly old plunge

Up until December 2013, I had been a busy little bee. I had more than twenty years experience of working in the security industry, and then my fairy godmother came along and bashed me over the ‘ead with her redundancy wand. “Here you are, old son have loads of dosh.” Ooooh, thanks, said I.

But what to do next? I had often considered working for myself, just buying a small van and becoming a sameday courier. I had met a number of couriers whilst I was working as a security gurad at various wharehouses. They would turn up and collect a mobile phone or something and shoot off to London. Looking at it from the other side of the fence it all looked and felt jolly exciting.

I had managed to accumulate a smallish amount of savings, but I didn’t think I had enough to finance myself, and doing a business plan and running all the way to the bank to see if I could borrow a few grand, was not very appealing, and that was my excuse to myself, which I clung to for a number of years. I couldn’t afford it. I was comfortable and cosy where I was and it was just too risky.

But after my redundancy windfall, I could afford it. So, I started to really think about it, and started to do some sums. Then I had to find a pair! It’s all very well to think about it, but after the sums bit, my recently acquired pot of gold was looking somewhat slim.

What if it all went wrong? What if I brought a van, paid mega bucks for the insurance, paid out for this that and the other and I couldn’t make a living at it? My big old pot of dosh would evaporate. I’d be pennyless, again. I’d never build up this amount of lolly again.

I did some more research. All my friends thought I was a little bit insane. None of them had a good word to say about my ideas, thanks guys. One said I’d be bust in three months. Oh dear, whilst my pot was still bulging, the pair were shrinking.

I set myself a dead-line. I’d gone on the Transport Exchange site, CX, and felt it was possible to make a go of things. I contacted local courier compainies, and some nationals as well. I maxed out the number of potential sources for work. It could work, couldn’t it? It would work, wouldn’t it? It must work, I hope. As I got nearer to that jolly old fence that I had viewed as a security gurad, so the risks got bigger and bigger, and it didn’t appear so very exciting anymore, just a big old gamble.

The dead-line date loomed. I brought a van, I paid for the insurance. I paid out for this that and the other. And my dear old pot of gold was two thirds lighter. I still hadn’t started working in earnest. I had set a dead-line for that too.

Then I woke up at about 4 in the morning and changed my mind! I tried to think of how I could get out of it, and how I could get some, or all of my money back. But no. I was made of sterner stuff, wasn’t I? I cast doubt assunder, and walked out into the new dawn as self-employed courier.

I Always was mummy’s brave little soldier.

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