As much as I’d love to spend my life road tripping around the world in my van, most of my time is really spent slaving away at work, dreaming of faraway places and contemplating my bad life choices. The problem with trying to travel is having to fund it, and as unbelievable as exploring the globe is, the side of life that involves stacking bricks and shifting wood can become mind-numbingly boring. I labour on building sites to increment my travel beans and as monotonous and mundane as it is, from time to time it’s not too bad. Sure, its not a long-term career plan and is probably a waste of A levels, but it is relaxed, occasionally fun and now I’ve been trusted to operate power tools, potentially deadly- which is exciting.
You see, as much as I might come across as a smart, witty bloke, I am really quite the opposite and sometimes I even amaze myself with my foolishness. The distinct lack of any self-preservation is outstanding, and over the past few weeks of work I have garnered sufficient evidence to prove the scary reality of the absence of any survivalist traits. I draw your attention to my use of a disc cutter. These little contraptions are a fantastically quick way of cutting though material such as pipes, wires and metals and whilst they are time and effort saving they also seem to be determined to blind, amputate and hurt me. Or maybe the risk is due to my own carelessness. Whilst cutting an old pipe off the ceiling the other week, I decided it would be an ingenious idea to stand directly under what I was cutting. I know that gravity exists, and I knew where the pipe would fall, and I knew it would fall as soon as I cut through the supporting bracket, but yet I still stood under it. One would presume that the following clash would knock some sense into me, but they’d be grossly incorrect. I also know that when the blade cuts the metal, sparks fly off it. Usually, a sane person would use the cutter accordingly, using the guard to deflect the sparks and wearing safety goggles. I decided it would be more effective to use the cutter upside down and without goggles, therefore rendering the guard useless and leaving my eyes exposed to the temporary flurry of hot, small, flying debris concentrated at my hollow head. The moment of realisation of my preposterously frivolous handling of the power tool came during when I was changing the blade. Whilst I had one hand on the disc edge and one on the spanner I also had my foot on the handle to keep it steady. And this is when I noticed that it was still plugged in. My foot was millimetres from the trigger which makes a blade designed to cut through metal spin at 7000rpm, and I was holding said blade with my hand and leg. This harrowing moment expedited the recognition that I should take more care when operating tools that have the potential to tear through steel, concrete and my fingers. Having laughed at warning labels such as ‘don’t use whilst wearing clothes’ on irons and ‘not for consumption’ on bleach, I now realise that I am the sort of person for which these warnings are targeted at.
The best conclusion to draw from my lunacy is that it is not safe to trust me around power tools. As my current job largely involves such items, it is only fair to ascertain that I should instead retreat to the ski slopes, or to my van. As I’ve previously stated, this is an unattainable lifestyle with no income, so the ultimate point of this post is this- please send me money so I can write a book, and be free from the life threatening power tools tenaciously inclined on murdering me.