By day, I’m a full-time Precious Metals Trader

It was a warm day in May 2007 when I landed at London Stansted.

Around £500 in my pocket.

A handful of printed CVs.

And one mission: get a university degree.

I didn’t come to the UK to wreak havoc or steal benefits.

I came here to do the work.

No job lined up.

No safety net.

No idea what I was really in for.

Just a rented room, a new city, and a head full of stress about rent, tuition fees, and whether I’d be able to keep up.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t have a clue.

So I did what any law-abiding immigrant student without rich parents would do.

I baked cakes in a café.

Waited tables in a pub.

I even packed flour in a factory (seriously—don’t tell my mum).

And when the shift ended, I hit the books and hoped I could keep my eyes open long enough to get through the reading list.

And on weekends?

I cracked open beers with my fellow students—united by stress, overdrafts, and a mutual disdain for 9am lectures.

No one was here to look over my shoulder.

I was thousands of miles away from family.

No safety. No shortcuts. Just me—figuring it out.

It wasn’t easy.

But it was mine.

Then came the final year. Work placement time.

Everyone seemed fine with working for free.

But I wasn’t buying it.

There was no way I could afford that.

And honestly? No one should.

So I went hunting for a paid job that could also count as my work placement.

Eventually, I landed a role as a Polish translator and content editor at a pretty well-known British betting company.

It was relevant. Interesting. Paid actual money.

And somehow—I managed to convince my manager to sign it off as my official placement.

I started learning about digital stuff—content, user behaviour, how people click, scroll, and buy.

For the first time, I wasn’t just working to get by.

I was actually interested.

And after a few months in, it felt like I was finally finding my rhythm.

And then—as it sometimes happens in life—everything changed.

The Polish government introduced new taxes on foreign betting companies.

The company I was working for pulled out of the Polish market soon after.

And just like that, I was out of a job.

No savings.

No backup plan.

Just a CV—and the decision not to waste time.

So I rolled up my sleeves and got back to it.

Cleaned up the CV.

Tightened the cover letter.

Then I uploaded the docs to every job board I could find with a “Quick Apply” option—and started firing off applications to every position that paid slightly better than the last.

I played the numbers game.

At least 100 applications a day.

The formula was simple—more shots, better odds.

And one of those shots landed in the inbox of a guy named Nittin.

He gave me a chance and invited me for an interview.

Next thing I knew, I was walking into a small, well-run gold and silver company in Hammersmith.

Did I know anything about precious metals?

Not much.

But I did have:

• Relentless curiosity

• A fast learning curve

• And that weird Polish charm you can’t quite explain—but somehow, it works

I got the job!

The title was US Operations Executive.

Which is a fancy way of saying:

“Polish guy helping Americans buy gold… from a small office in Hammersmith.”

But hey—markets don’t care about borders, just prices, timely execution and your P&L (profit and loss).

I went straight into the deep end—because the US desk was new and already busy.

I learned everything from scratch: sales, trust, payments, markets, and so on.

Year after year, I took on more.

Got better.

Leveled up.

Started getting amazing client reviews.

My confidence soared.

Eventually, I earned my stripes as a Senior Precious Metals Trader.

It’s been almost 14 years in the industry—and about 6 years as a trader—and I still absolutely love it.

The work matters. The pace is sharp. The price swings keep me on my toes.

It demands focus—and I thrive in that space.

But here’s the twist…

Now, at 40, with a solid job, a roof over my head, and a 5-year-old boy calling me “Dad”…

I’ve got this itch.

Like there’s something I’m meant to build—but haven’t yet.

So in early 2025, I ran a full audit on my life.

Health. Wealth. Purpose. And all that.

I gave up smoking.

Hired a nutritionist.

Cleaned up my diet.

Hit the gym.

Between December 2024 and March 2025, I dropped over 10kg.

And now? I’m building something of my own.

Something honest.

Something I can point to and say: “That’s mine.”

Because to me, building a personal brand isn’t about becoming an “influencer.”

It’s about self-discovery.

It’s brilliantly described by Chris Do in one of his interviews:

“Personal branding is a process of discovering who you are, getting in touch with that—and healing from trauma that we don’t even understand we have.”

That’s what this site is.

It’s my digital lab.

My playground.

A space to think out loud, build in public, screw up, learn, and grow.

And the core of it all is my newsletter:

Meaning. Money. Mastery: After 40.

It’s about building a one-person online business with zero hype, no credentials, and no ad budget.

Just starting with what you’ve got, where you are.

Some of it will flop.

Some might stick.

Either way, I’ll be here, doing what I do well:

Putting in the work.

Learning.

Showing up.

Stacking my skills.

With the hope that in the future—before I retire—this all pays me back and leaves some legacy for my son.

Because if I’ve learned one thing since stepping off that plane in 2007…

You don’t need to have everything worked out to move forward.

You don’t need permission.

You just need to start.

And keep moving toward your goal.

At some point, the right door will open.

So no matter what happens—keep going.

Keep learning. Keep growing.

Bit by bit. Day by day.

Don’t chase perfection.

Just focus on becoming a better version of yourself—one step at a time.

That’s the work. That’s the path.

And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

– Jack