Once again, I found myself without a roof over my head. After everything I had done since arriving in Australia, buying a car, finding a rental, furnishing a home and bringing my little family across from New Zealand, I was back to relying on someone else for somewhere to stay. Thankfully, my younger sister and her little family opened their home to me. I was extremely grateful to have them, especially at a time when so much else in my life had become uncertain.

At least my apprenticeship was going well. I was working for a company specialising in water filtration, and when I signed up I thought I had a reasonable idea of what the job would involve. What I did not realise was that the company serviced sites all over Australia. Before long, I was being sent everywhere from Cairns to Tasmania, Canberra and plenty of places in between.

Whenever I was sent away, I would usually ask how long the job was expected to take. The answer was nearly always the same.

“About a week.”

I eventually learned that those three words meant absolutely nothing.

A week could become a month, and a month could become several months. At times I would spend up to six months working away, usually getting a long weekend back in Brisbane every three weeks or so. After a while, when someone told me to pack for a week, I packed like I might not see my wardrobe again until Christmas.

The work was far more specialised than anything I had done before. We built and installed large reverse osmosis skids, industrial filtration systems made up of pumps, pipework, valves, gauges and specialised membranes. Water was forced through the membranes under pressure, removing dissolved salts and other contaminants. Some of the systems were massive, and as an apprentice I was learning how all those individual components worked together to turn contaminated or unsuitable water into something usable.

That was the clean side of the business.

Then I discovered the company also carried out major overhauls and servicing on older systems.

Including sewage treatment plants.

For much of the next four years, I would find myself working right in the heart of human filth.

All I can say is, I have seen some sh1t.

A lot of sh1t.

And I do not say that lightly.

I have been splashed in it, drenched in it and had it end up in places where another human being's bodily waste should never be. Sometimes I would be elbow deep in a job when a mysterious droplet would land on my face. Both hands would be occupied, there would be no easy way to clean it off, so I would have to keep working.

Half an hour later I would absentmindedly lick my lips.

Then my brain would catch up.

Droplet.

Face.

Near mouth.

Oh no!!

By that stage, there was no point finding a rag. The incident had already resolved itself.

Sewage plants also have a smell that is almost impossible to explain to someone who has never worked in one. It does not just enter your nose. It moves in, signs a lease and starts rearranging the furniture. You could shower, scrub yourself clean, change your clothes and still wonder whether everyone around you could smell what you had been standing in all day.

Despite the disgusting side of it, I enjoyed learning the trade. I was working on major industrial equipment, solving problems and gaining experience that I never would have picked up doing ordinary construction work. I was also seeing parts of Australia I probably never would have visited otherwise, although spending twelve hours inside a sewage treatment plant was perhaps not the sightseeing experience most tourists had in mind.

Life after work could be almost as challenging as the job itself. The company would usually rent a house near the project and put several of us in together. That meant spending all day working with the same blokes, driving home with them, eating with them and then waking up the next morning to do it all again.

Sometimes everyone got along well.

Sometimes someone's breathing was enough to piss you off.

Being the apprentice meant I was at the bottom of the accommodation food chain. Nobody was handing me the master bedroom and ensuite. If there was a couch, it usually had my name on it. If there was one tiny bedroom that looked like it had previously been used to store a vacuum cleaner, I knew exactly where my bag was going.

After ten or twelve hours working with the same people, I often had no desire to spend the rest of the evening sitting around the house with them. If we were staying somewhere for a while, I would join a local gym. It gave me somewhere to go, kept me occupied and gave me a few precious hours away from the people I worked and lived with.

There was no real separation between work and home on those jobs. If you had an argument with someone during the day, you could not knock off and forget about them until tomorrow. You climbed into the same vehicle, went back to the same house and probably had to sit across from them while eating dinner. Then, if fortune was really smiling upon you, you could lie on your apprentice couch listening to them snore all night.

The part I struggled with most was being away from my boys. Those long weekends back in Brisbane became precious. I would have them with me at my sister's place and try to make the most of the short time we had before I had to leave again. I loved my kids, and although I was working hard to build a career and earn a living, there was always a cost attached to being away for so long.

That was why I grabbed any Brisbane based work I could get. I did not care how filthy or difficult the job was. After months of airports, shared houses and living out of a bag, being able to knock off work and remain in the same city as my children felt like a luxury.

It was a strange chapter of my life. I did not have a home of my own, yet I was building a career. I was an apprentice sleeping on couches, travelling around Australia and learning a specialised trade that would take me into some truly disgusting places.

I learned about pumps, filtration systems, reverse osmosis and sewage treatment.

I learned how to live with workmates without k1lling them.

And I learned never to lick my lips in a sewage plant.

Some lessons you learn from a textbook.

Others you only need to learn once.