You know you’re really in a hole when the first thing you do in a morning is lean over and check last night’s lottery numbers! Unfortunately, I fell in to that terrible trap of ‘sticking with the same numbers’ about 7 or 8 years ago. Well …I say ‘sticking with the same numbers’, but three of them actually ‘roll on’.
You see, I’ve always had the house number and my birthday, which have remained the same. However, the three other numbers are the ages of my Mother, my Father and I – so they’ve obviously moved up one digit with each passing year. Problem is - my Mum and Dad turn 48 and 49 respectively this year, so by the time March 2012 arrives, I’ll have run out of numbers! Finally, I’ll be able to kick the twice-weekly habit!
I’m sat here typing and I must say that I can’t quite believe that it’s still only Thursday. I can honestly say that this has been one of the longest and most traumatic weeks I can remember. I’m pretty sure I’ve had ‘bad’ weeks in the past, losing loved ones and suchlike - but I am simply unable to quantify the level of emotion, pressure and uncertainty I’ve felt since receiving the Dubai
In fact, that wasn’t the only golden nugget of advice I received over the last few days and I’ll share some of this gold dust with you over the next few paragraphs.
So, to cut to the chase…I am afraid to report that I decided not to accept the job offer. I really feel that I may have disappointed some of the followers of this blog and also let down all my pals who have been in touch with their wise words of encouragement and helpful advice. All the phone calls and text messages over the last few days have been brilliant, but in the end, I guess I didn’t quite have big enough balls to take the big gamble. My only hope now is that my decision will be exonerated by the sunshine ending I hoped for in my first blog. Who'd have known that on Day 1, I'd have been in such a pickle less than two weeks later!
There were a hundred and one things that had my head spinning round like a fighter pilot in a jet-wash and I couldn’t possibly go into detail about them all without boring you all to tears. But I should also defend the size of my balls and explain a few of the defining factors of my decision.
The first thing to say is that it appears my heart is much bigger than my balls...
...But moving on, there were of course, many, many pro’s to consider. It really would have been wonderful to have left BB2 behind, if just for a short while. The negativity surrounding our great country at the moment is making it difficult for even the most spirited of British souls to keep calm and carry on. Getting away from the weather, putting a full stop to my unemployment and having the chance to try and forge a brand new career path were all huge temptations.
BUT - a whole bundle of “What if’s?” were like proverbial nails hammering into my head. Without the time I needed to do the necessary research and find out about genuine sales figures, I was a midge's toe-nail away from making an uninformed gamble - rather than an educated decision.
The main concern was how many properties could I realistically sell? If, for example, I sold 'the target' of just one a month, I would have returned home in 12 months time with nigh on a quarter of a million pounds in the bank, tax-free. Quite frankly, this sounded too good to be true and hence forth, another golden nugget glistened; “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is”. Defeatist perhaps? Or realistic? ...Do things like this really happen to people like me? Then again, the world's most successful entrepreneurs didn't get where they are today by not taking an occasional chance.
On the flip side, there’d have been no commission and no bonuses if I’d have completely sucked at the job and after all, there’s no commission on nothing.
I calculated that I would need to fly out with a good £8K of ‘back-up’ cash to cover the first three months rent and emergency money. With the equity in my car (and if I’d have managed to sell it in time!) and every penny I have in the bank, I could have met this financial ask. But, the dream started to feel like more and more of a gamble and unfortunately, I’m not blessed with a family full of wealth to dig me out of the holes I manage to get myself into!
The cold reality of the situation was that I had just 24 hours to decide whether to move three and a half thousand miles away for a minimum of twelve months. The question had to be answered quickly as there were less than three weeks to sort out flights, cancel subscriptions, rearrange phone contracts, sell the motor, pack my bags and say all my goodbyes. Oh yeah…there was also the hearts-v-balls battle to contend with too.
Time was ticking...
At 13:12 yesterday I got a text message from David at The First Group asking me which airport I’d like to fly from. At 13:35 he texted again to ask if I could scan my passport and get it e-mailed to him as soon as possible. I was beginning to feel a little ‘bullied’ and then golden nugget number three arrived from ‘Little T’:
“Just thought - if they are pressurising you now about flights etc and not giving you much space to think etc, is that a sign of things to come? Hmmm”. For the first time, I had a little looking glass with a view into what life might be like ‘on the other side’.
I really hope I don’t regret the decision I’ve made and that when I get to God’s house, I'll get confirmation that I made the right choice.
The opportunity to look back in this life and say "I did that" hasn't passed me by though, as I've learned a HUGE lesson about myself this week: The biggest draw of all about going to Dubai
But for the right financial package and with the right prospects, I would still take a job anywhere in the entire world right now, be it Plymouth or Paris , London or LA or indeed, Doncaster or Dubai.
Until next time, may my decision be blessed with good fortune and may blessings come to you all.
Jason
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