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€58,900 in three days. And my first peaceful sleep in 6 years. My name's Alexandre Vidal, I'm 44. I'm a lift engineer in London. Most people have no idea what this job is really like. You don't just "fix a lift and leave". You go down into the shaft – no light, constant draughts, 15–20 storeys high. You work in a tight space, surrounded by cables, counterweights and mechanisms that could move at any moment. For 9 years, I've been taking risks every single day. One wrong move – and that's it. We sign loads of paperwork about liability, but when the emergency line rings at 3am and you have to go to a high-rise building, nobody asks if you've had any sleep. The schedule is a nightmare. One minute you're sitting in the depot waiting, the next you're called out at 2:30am because a lift has got stuck between floors with people inside. You have to go, climb down, calm down terrified people and fix the problem. Every call could be your last if you're tired or distracted for even a second. My back has been ruined for years. Neck, shoulders, knees – all chronic. After a shift, I come home and lie down for 40 minutes just to let my body recover a bit. My wife Emily has got used to me being quiet in the evenings. I just don't have the energy to talk. On paper, the salary isn't bad – €3,800–4,500 net. But it's hard-earned money. Constant training courses, certifications, tools, workwear, a car (because you have to get to call-outs quickly). After all the expenses and taxes, there's not much left. Plus I have a loan I took out 4 years ago when Emily had surgery. We thought we'd pay it back quickly. But life had other plans. The last six months have been really tough. I started having panic attacks in the shaft. Once, I climbed down to the 18th floor and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe properly. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking. I barely managed to finish the job. From that day on, I started being scared to go down. But I couldn't tell anyone – I'd have los
