His name is Jake Welch and at just 30 years old, he already has a good grip on the meaning of life. Jake is a tough looking guy with a heart of gold. A hardworking, middle class man who tries to make all of the right decisions for his family. Married and with one young child, Jake often left his family and traveled from his home in Maine to work on oil rigs throughout the country. That was until he lost his job.
In a recent Facebook post dated January 28, 2016, Jake explained to the world that he had just ‘lost his job’. The loss of his job clearly came unexpectedly and he had now found himself in the same boat as thousands of other hardworking American’s, jobless.
Jake’s post took off like a wildfire, spreading all over the world in just a few short days and received nearly 33,000 likes. It wasn’t the fact that Jake lost his job that has America going nuts of his Facebook post, it is his message. A message that rings true since the beginning of time and one that most of fail to remember.
Keep your head up. Don’t slow down, never stop trying and give it your all. Many of us can learn a lot of a guy like Jake. His words are much deeper than that of just losing a job. Losing your job has a whole new meaning when you are providing for a family. But having a positive attitude like Jake’s, truly can make all the difference.
Something tells us that Jake is going to be just fine in life!
Here is Jake’s full Facebook post :
I lost my job today.
There it is. Technically, I found out this would be my last trip on this rig nearly a month ago. Worked the whole hitch with the knowledge that when my feet touch solid ground today, I’ll receive a phone call or email to terminate me. This is the oilfield in 2016. I am not the only one. In fact, I am in the company of tens of thousands who will now sit down at their kitchen table for the modern equivalent of cutting out newspaper listings. I spent over five years on this rig, made friends from all over the world. I’ve turned wrenches alongside those who trust me with their lives, and I with theirs. There are few other careers that result in the kind of bond between crew. And after these five years, I’ll see very few of them ever again in my life. And it breaks my fucking heart.
So, now I fly home and turn the page. Because there’s no other way. I was raised to be a man of action; not to sit with my head hung low and wait for someone else to put the pieces back together. My wife and I will do that together, with the support of the greatest circle of friends and family we could ever dream of. I don’t want a single “I’m so sorry” in the comments of this post, or anyone’s condolences. Please, hang on to them. It’s not about my own pride, or dignity. It’s simply that I am grateful for the life I have and the opportunities before me. There are people blindsided by horrific tragedies every day, and mine is not one of them. Offer your apologies to those individuals, as they could surely benefit more than me.
We will move forward because it’s all we know. And if it gets harder before it gets easier, then so it shall be. I’m admittedly a little anxious about what the future holds, but I am unafraid. This month at work has been the most challenging period I’ve ever worked through, and it has served to demonstrate the strength of the woman who holds my home together in my absence. Everyone says their significant other is the greatest on earth; as they rightly should. But I will tell you without a shadow of doubt, that my wife is made of something very few would even understand. She is my better half, and I would not have lasted two minutes offshore this trip if not for her guidance and support. I work to be everything a real man should be, and part of that means appreciating that sometimes he is not strong enough to take the world on alone.
Here’s to pouring a glass with my family and friends who’ve stood by my side every day, and to getting back on the rails. It simply is what it is, and it’s time to move on. The world is full of compression ignition engines and screaming turbochargers, waiting for a worthy hand on the throttle. I am that man.