It was a warm day in May 2007 when I landed at London Stansted, UK.
Around £500 in my pocket.
A handful of printed CVs.
And one goal: Get a university degree.
I didn’t come here to wreak havoc or chase benefits.
I came here to do the work.
I had no job lined up.
No backup plan.
No idea what I was really in for.
Just a rented room in a city I didn’t know and a head full of stress about rent, tuition fees, and whether I’d be able to keep up.
Spoiler: I had no clue.
So I did what any broke, law-abiding student without rich parents would do.
I baked cakes in a café.
Waited tables in a pub.
Even packed flour in a local factory.
I did whatever it took to cover bills and keep the lights on.
After every shift, I’d hit the books and hope I could keep my eyes open long enough to get through the reading list.
And on weekends?
I crack opened beers with fellow students—united by stress, overdrafts, and a shared disdain for 9am lectures.
There was no one looking over my shoulder.
I was thousands of miles from home.
I was on my own.
No safety net.
No shortcuts.
Just me, figuring it out.
It wasn’t easy.
But it was mine.
Then came the final year. Work placement time.
Everyone around me seemed fine working for free.
But I wasn’t buying it.
There was no way I could afford that.
And honestly?
No one should ever work in exchange for nothing.
So I went hunting for a job that paid—and could double as my work placement.
Eventually, I landed a role as a Polish translator and content editor in the head office of a well-known British betting company called Ladbrokes.
It was relevant.
It was interesting.
It paid actual money.
And somehow—I convinced my manager to sign it off as my official placement.
That job opened a door.
I started learning digital stuff—content, user behaviour, how people click, scroll, and buy.
For the first time, I wasn’t just working to survive.
I was actually interested.
A year and a few months in, it felt like I was finally finding my rhythm and work life balance.
And then—just like that—it all collapsed.
The Polish government brought in new taxes on foreign betting companies.
The company pulled out of the Polish market.
I lost my job.
Almost no savings.
No backup.
Just a CV—and a decision not to waste time.
So I did what I’ve always done.
I rolled up my sleeves.
Sharpened my cover letter.
Uploaded everything to every job board with a “Quick Apply” button.
Fired off 100+ applications a day.
Simple formula:
More shots = better odds.
One of those shots landed in the inbox of a guy named Nittin.
He gave me a chance. Invited me for an interview.
Next thing I knew, I was walking into a small but well-run company in Hammersmith.
Did I know anything about precious metals?
Not much.
But I had:
Relentless curiosity.
A steep learning curve.
And that weird Polish charm you can’t quite explain—but somehow, it works.
I got the job.
The title?
US Operations Executive.
Which was a fancy way of saying:
Polish graduate helping Americans invest in gold—from a small well-run office in West London.
But markets don’t care where you’re from—just the price, the spread, the execution, and your profit and loss.
I got thrown straight into the deep end.
The US desk was new and already flying.
I learned everything from scratch—sales, trust, payments, client psychology, markets, and what not.
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.
And here I am.
Almost 14 years in the industry.
About 5 years as a trader.
And I still love it.
The work matters.
The pace is sharp.
The price swings keep me on my toes.
The job demands focus—and I thrive in that space.
I’m very proud of what I do at BullionVault.
It’s meaningful.
It’s global.
It’s real.
But here’s the thing…
Now, at 40—with a solid career, London as home, and a little boy calling me “Dad”…
I’ve got this itch.
It’s not a midlife crisis.
It’s a midlife audit.
At the start of 2025, I sat down and did the math on my life:
Health. Wealth. Purpose.
And I realised—I wasn’t unhappy.
I wasn’t lost.
But I was still playing small.
So I made some changes:
- I gave up smoking.
- Hired a nutritionist.
- Cleaned up my diet.
- Started training again.
Between December 2024 and March 2025, I dropped over 10kg.
The goal?
To be in the best shape of my life by the time I turn 40—on 9th September 2025.
Not for vanity. Not for Instagram.
But because I want to take full control of my life—before life starts calling the shots for me.
That’s where this site comes in.
Jacekiciek.com is my digital lab.
A place to think out loud.
Build in public.
Screw up.
Learn.
Grow.
And at the heart of it all?
My free weekly newsletter:
Meaning. Money. Mastery: After 40
It’s where I document the journey of building something truly mine: a one-person digital business—starting from scratch.
No hype.
No credentials.
No paid ads.
Just starting with what I’ve got, where I am.
Some of it will flop.
Some of it might stick.
Either way—I’ll be here:
- Putting in the work.
- Showing up.
- Stacking skills.
I'm sharing everything I learn along the way—so maybe, just maybe, it helps someone else do the same.
This is for the 40-somethings who want to build something meaningful without leaving their job.
The ones juggling real life, looking for a path to something more.
Not just a side hustle.
A meaningful project that could fund freedom.
Because if I’ve learned one thing since stepping off that plane in 2007…
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
You don’t need permission.
You just need to start.
And keep moving toward the life you want.
At some point, the right door opens.
So no matter what happens—
Keep going.
Keep learning.
Keep growing.
Day by day.
Don’t chase perfection.
Just focus on becoming a better version of yourself—one step at a time.
And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.
