Once upon a time, in a small, bustling town nestled between rolling hills and wide-open fields, there lived a boy named Luke. From the moment he could walk, Luke was mesmerised by the sounds of construction machines at work; hammers clanging, engines rumbling, and the steady beep of reversing diggers.
He would spend hours perched on the fence near a construction site at the edge of town, watching the workers build houses, repair roads, and erect scaffolding that seemed to touch the sky. The workers fascinated him, their movements deliberate and confident, transforming raw materials into something permanent and useful.
“I want to do that one day,” Luke would tell anyone who would listen. “I want to build things and fix things!”
Luke’s parents were less keen. His mother dreamed of him becoming a doctor or a lawyer; anything that didn’t involve hard physical labour. His father, a tired accountant with a permanent frown, would scoff. “It’s just a phase. You’ll grow out of it.”
But Luke didn’t grow out of it. By the time he was 13, he’d built a collection of books about construction machines and engineering.
While his friends had posters of supermodels and footballers on their bedroom walls, Luke’s were filled with JCBs, Caterpillars and Liebherrs. He spent weekends helping an elderly neighbour patch up fences and re-tile garden sheds. And when his school held a career day, he circled “Construction and Demolition” on the sign-up sheet.
His excitement, however, wasn’t shared by his school’s careers officer.
The careers officer, a stern woman with sharp glasses and an even sharper tongue, raised an eyebrow when Luke shared his dream of working in construction.
“Construction, Luke? That’s not a proper career path for someone with potential like yours. You’re bright. You should aim for university, maybe engineering or architecture. Those are respectable fields. Construction is… well, it’s not the kind of thing we encourage here.”
Luke frowned. “But I don’t want to be an engineer. I want to operate machines, build things with my own hands.”
She gave him a tight smile, the kind that wasn’t meant to be kind at all. “You’ll change your mind. There’s no future in manual work. Machines will take over, and the industry is declining anyway. Stick to school, Luke. Get good grades and leave this nonsense behind.”
For weeks after that conversation, Luke wrestled with doubt. His teachers echoed the careers officer’s advice, praising his grades and urging him to pursue something “worthy” of his abilities. But every time he passed a construction site or heard the clang of steel against steel, his heart reminded him where it truly belonged.
When he turned 16, Luke made a decision that shocked his parents and teachers alike. Instead of going to college like most of his classmates, he enrolled in an apprenticeship with a local construction company. His first job was gruelling; hauling bricks, mixing cement, and sweeping debris. But Luke thrived in the dirt and noise, finding joy in the tangible results of his labour.
Years passed, and Luke’s skills grew. He learned to operate excavators, manage teams, and eventually oversee entire projects. His passion, determination, and knack for problem-solving set him apart. He moved away from his hometown and started his own construction business in a nearby city.
Luke’s company thrived. He built homes and even constructed a wing for a hospital. Along the way, he met his wife, Helen, and together they had a son, Bobby, who shared his father’s fascination with machines.
One summer evening, as they sat in the garden, they talked about Luke’s elderly parents and how they were struggling to care for themselves. “What if we moved back to your hometown?” Helen suggested. “We could be closer to your family and it’d be nice for Bobby to grow up there.”
Luke hesitated. He’d visited his parents as often as he could but he hadn’t spent any meaningful time in the town itself. But the thought of returning to the place where his dreams began tugged at his heart. After a lot of discussion, they decided to visit.
When they arrived, Luke was shocked by what he saw.
The roads he remembered cycling along as a child were riddled with potholes. The hospital where he’d been born looked tired and battered, its façade crumbling and in need of a coat of paint, its dilapidated car park overcrowded with frustrated drivers.
When Luke and Helen enquired about enrolling Bobby in the local primary school, they were met with more disappointment.
“We’re at full capacity,” the school administrator said with a weary sigh. “No new classrooms have been built in years, and we’ve had to turn families away. I’m sorry, but there’s just no room.”
Frustrated, Luke, Helen and Bobby went to a local coffee shop in the middle of town. Luke spoke to an older guy who agreed that the town, its roads, and its hospital had seen better days.
“No one wants to work in the trades anymore,” the old man said bitterly. “Kids today are told it’s beneath them. And now we’re paying the price. There’s no one to fix the roads, no one to extend the hospital, no one to build more schools.”
Luke felt a pang of guilt. He thought of all the students who, like him, had dreamed of building things but had been discouraged by those in authority. But unlike him, many of them hadn’t ignored that advice. They had walked the path that was expected of them, leaving the trades behind.
Determined to help, Luke tried to hire local workers for a project he’d taken on; a small housing development just outside town. But the response was disheartening. The few skilled workers who remained were already booked months in advance; most of them were at retirement age.
In the weeks that followed, Luke tried to rally the community, speaking at schools and encouraging young people to consider careers in construction. He even offered apprenticeships through his company. But the results were underwhelming.
“It’s too late,” a teacher confided. “We’ve been steering students away from these jobs for decades. They don’t see the value in it anymore.”
One rainy afternoon, Luke drove past the hospital. The roof had started to sag, and a handwritten sign outside read, “Wait times exceed 8 hours. Please be patient.”
That evening, as he sat in his kitchen, Luke felt the weight of it all.
“Dad,” Bobby said, breaking the silence. “Why don’t people fix things here anymore?”
Luke struggled to find the words. “Because… because people forgot how important it was. They forgot that without builders, there’s no schools, no hospitals, and no town.”
Bobby frowned, confused. “But you’re a builder. Can’t you fix it?”
Luke wanted to say yes, to reassure his son that he could make things better. But the truth was, it wasn’t something he could fix alone.
As the months turned into years, the town continued to decline. Luke stayed, doing what little he could, but the demand far outweighed the supply of skilled workers. And as Bobby grew older, he began to lose interest in his father’s work, drawn instead to the shiny promise of tech and finance; careers that didn’t involve dirt and sweat.
Luke couldn’t blame him. After all, wasn’t that the message society had been sending all along?
One day, as Luke walked through the town square, now littered with cracks and weeds, he paused to look around. He saw a town that had once been full of life, now falling apart at the seams.
He thought of the careers officer all those years ago, her dismissive words echoing in his mind: “There’s no future in manual work.”
She had been wrong, of course. The problem was that too many listened and believed.
And now, there was no-one left to listen.
The End.
This topic was the subject of an in-depth discussion on today's after show chat. You can listen to the resulting podcast here.