The Sparky Dream

I remember wanting to be a ‘sparky’ when I was younger…and yeah, it had a lot to do with the name. This was during a phase of my life when I’d pick my favourite superheroes and fruits and cars based on how they sounded rather than anything about them. I was all set on being the youngest electrician in history at the tender age of nine, and then we did an experiment in class on electricity, I shocked myself a little bit and suddenly I didn’t want to be a sparky any more. The dream died pretty quickly, all things considered. Wasn’t even a big shock, actually. Like, imagine being a commercial electrician and having to deal with power lines, and maybe someone gave you some faulty gloves and you get zapped, but you keep on going…because you’re a sparky. That was never going to be me. I can barely stand static shocks from when I pet my dog.

I guess there are some jobs where you need to have a bit more pain tolerance than others. I mean, electricians generally try to avoid injury at all costs, but you have to admit that there’s a much greater chance of getting injured than, say…working in a library. Stocking shelves. Doing stock trading. No job is utterly without hazard, but electrics and building and underwater welding? Well, that’s why they get hazard pay. You put your life on the line, you deserve a little extra something alongside your paycheck.

Turns out that I’m just going to let the local Bayside electricians do their thing, risking their necks so I can keep charging my laptop and keep watching Neat-Flicks and enjoying modern conveniences. Basically, I’m a weed with a low pain tolerance. Sometimes the static shock stops me from touching my dog for the whole day, so the electrician path was not for me.