The Half-Century Surveyor - Better Late Than Never Poem by Lisa AT

The hair is greying, the joints are creaking,
It's professional competence I'm seeking.
While peers are planning exotic holidays and cruises,
I'm nursing academic bruises.
​At fifty-two, the brain is full
Of 80s pop and useless bull.
But now I'm cramming Red Book stats,
While squinting through my bifocal flats.
​The Struggle is Real
• ​The Memory I remember where I put my keys (mostly) , but the definition of Depreciated Replacement Cost? Gone.
• ​The Stamina I used to pull all-nighters with ease; now, three pages of Construction Technology and I need a nap and a heating pad.
• ​The Tech My laptop thinks I'm a bot because I've typed 'How to pass APC' into Google forty-nine times this morning.
​I've spent my years as a Property Manager
Dealing with leaks and the occasional damager.
From service charge rows to a boiler that's blown,
There's no tenant crisis that I haven't known.
​But now I want more than a 'thanks' and a smile,
I'm chasing a pay raise by a country mile!
I dream of being a Chartered Surveyor,
A title with weight, a professional purveyor!
​I sit among the bright young things,
Who haven't felt the tax-man's stings.
They quote the Core Competencies with glee,
While I'm just wondering, 'Is it time for tea? ' My 'Life Experience' counts for plenty,
But I'm competing with a girl of twenty.
She's got a spreadsheet, sleek and fast,
I've got a ruler from the distant past.
​'Will I pass? ' I ask the sky,
With an excited heart but a weary eye.
The RICS is a mountain tall,
But the bank account needs a boost, after all.
​So here's to the legends, the late-blooming crew,
Chasing the Chartered status at fifty-two.
We might need more coffee, we might move quite slow,
But we've got the grit (and the bills) that the youngsters don't know!
​