Picture this. It’s a regular Tuesday morning. The sun’s barely up, the kettle’s just boiled, and somewhere in this great and glorious industry of ours, something utterly ridiculous and entirely unexpected happens. A demolition boss and a demolition worker swap lives. I’m not talking “trade jobs for a week” in one of those cheesy team-building exercises. I mean a full-on body swap. Like the movie Freaky Friday, except with more high-vis and swearing and fewer teenage tantrums.
One minute, Dave – who has been driving an excavator for the past 15 years – is pulling on his boots, and the next, he’s sat in a leather chair behind a mahogany desk, staring at a laptop that’s pinging like a microwave. And up the road, Martin – who actually owns the company, drives a flash car, and has Managing Director on his business card – is suddenly in a muddy site cabin, holding a hard hat and wondering why his hands already smell faintly of diesel.
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