Things started looking up financially when my girlfriend’s host family introduced me to a family that needed electrical work done. They paid me £10 to fix two light switches and change a bulb. Their house had three rooms in complete darkness for days. While an English electrician would have charged at least £50 just to step through the door, I was happy with my earnings at the time—I had the skills, but I didn’t know any better.
Before I left, the homeowner asked, “Our shower doesn’t work; can you have a look?” I went upstairs to investigate. The issue was with an electric power shower motor located under the bathtub. It wouldn’t switch on. After a bit of tinkering, I shorted a couple of connections on the PCB and got it to pump water momentarily. I identified the problem—a faulty component—but didn’t have the part to fix it. I explained the issue, and the homeowner insisted I leave everything open so they could order the part and call me back later to finish the job. I cautioned against leaving exposed wiring, especially with kids around, but she was adamant.
A few days later, they called to say they couldn’t locate the part. I spent an entire morning combing through directories to help them find it, and eventually, they managed to place an order. The faulty part was a simple 30p thyristor—a small component responsible for switching the motor on and off. The shower system itself was worth over £1,000.
When the part arrived, they called me again. This time, I told them upfront: “I’ll come to fix it, but it will cost £200.” The homeowner lost her temper and hung up. Shortly after, she called my girlfriend’s host family to complain about my fee, saying it was outrageous since they only paid £10 last time. While I appreciated that first payment, this was a completely different job. Fixing this issue required expertise and precision, skills I had studied for years to develop.
This situation reminded me of the famous story about Picasso. A lady once approached him in a Paris café and asked him to sketch something on a napkin. After completing the drawing in two minutes, Picasso demanded a substantial sum. When the lady protested, saying it only took him two minutes, Picasso replied, “Yes, but it took me 40 years to be able to do this in two minutes.” That story resonated deeply with me. Expertise has value, and just because something looks easy doesn’t mean it comes cheaply.
Despite attempts from my girlfriend and her host family to convince me otherwise, I stood my ground. I knew the family had plenty of money, and I wasn’t going to sell myself short. Still, the homeowner escalated the situation, claiming her children were in danger because I had left the shower system exposed. She even threatened to involve the police. Eventually, to avoid unnecessary trouble, I agreed to return and “put everything back.”
When I arrived, I went upstairs, unscrewed the PCB, and smashed it to pieces. I also jammed the motor’s fan with my screwdriver, ensuring the system was completely irreparable. Then, I reassembled everything neatly. The damage was subtle, but fixing it would cost them another £1,000. I left without a word, knowing they would now need to hire a proper electrician to replace the entire system.
The incident was a valuable lesson. In life, if you’re good at something, never do it for free unless it brings you some other form of benefit or joy. There was no pleasure or benefit for me in lying on a bathroom floor fixing a shower for £10. If the homeowner had been polite, I might have negotiated and done the job for £100, but her disrespect crossed a line.
Meanwhile, I picked up some babysitting jobs here and there, earning a little extra. Between the Sainsbury’s trolleys and odd jobs, I had saved around £200 within two weeks of arriving in England. For me, at the time, that was amazing. Every day, I learned something new, improved my English bit by bit, and became sharper about how things worked in this new environment.