The Pursuit of Happiness

I spent 26 years in a small town between Padua and Venice. The routine was textbook: girlfriend, five-a-side football, boxing, same pizzerias, same jokes.

No complaints. I felt lucky. Honestly.

Money 💶

I jumped on the work train at 15. I wanted independence.

Also, growing up where a degree is seen as pointless, doesn’t exactly push you toward campus life.

Factories and construction sites left a mark. Great people, tough work. Enough to shove me back to the books. The idea of a lifetime on an assembly line? Hard pass. I loved computers and games. Obvious path.

December 27, 2007. Freezing.

I defend my thesis. Professor Sperduti declares me “Doctor of Mathematics and Computer Science.” Applause, hugs, the whole scene. Then...reality.

Job hunting isn’t hard. A few weeks later I’m a junior dev at a B2PA consultancy in Padua. Contract? Metalworker. Because Italy still hadn’t figured out what a software developer is.

Permanent contract with 3-year apprenticeship.
Salary: €948 net/month.

They promise they’ll shorten the apprenticeship. Maybe.

I knew I was green. I wasn’t expecting money showers. And hey, none of my uni friends were cracking €1k. Real “1000 Euros Generation” energy.

A Decent Paycheck Can Wait 💔

Two years later, with “seniority,” I’m at €1,049. The “shortened” apprenticeship? Magically “maturing” till the end. They “can’t afford” a full salary but will gladly pocket incentives. Win-win—just not for me.

Work felt like a straitjacket. Projects? Anaesthetic. Time to bail.

I interview everywhere. The offers? +€100–€150/month. Switching for crumbs? Meh.

The only perk: a silky work-life balance and near-zero pressure. Most people would be thrilled. I’m not most people. I’m young. I want more.

Another year flies by. Still chasing a bigger paycheck. Nothing. Meanwhile I’m doing support, help desk, full implementations. I’m proud. Also underpaid and invisible.

I’m a squirrel in a maze. Then a spark: “What if I look outside Italy?”

The mythical land where devs get paid. 🤑

The Second Job 🥈

Enter Luca, a compatriot with a web agency in Lithuania. We collaborate nights and weekends.

Suddenly I’m getting pings from the Netherlands, India, Germany, the UK. Lightning strike: English pays.

Small issue: my English is tragic. I can barely stitch a sentence.

Solution: get good. Fast.

“Du iú spich inglisc?” 🥴

Years of school and I can’t form a thought. Classic.

I dust off high school books, raid my girlfriend’s uni materials, and find my dad’s cassette course. I loop it in the garden shed like a monk. My sidekick? Google Translate. We laughed, we cried, we invented new grammar.

Something Unexpected Happens ✨

Chatting with my friend Stefano. There’s a startup in Amsterdam looking for a front-end dev.

“Interview?” “Hell yes.”

June 2011. Front-end is a toddler. jQuery, Mootools, Handlebars. AJAX is going mainstream. Backbone.js organizes the chaos. Everyone chants “MVC.”

I’m solid with CSS, decent with PHP, semi-coherent with JavaScript. English? Disaster.

Phone interview = emotional rollercoaster. My mom’s impressed (she doesn’t speak English), but even she doubts they’ll hire me.

A week of remote trials later, contract lands:

Fixed-term: 1 year.
Salary: €2,249 net/month.

My brain:

• Dead-end job? Who cares.
• International adventure? Yes.
• English upgrade? Finally.
• CV boost? Needed.
• Money? At last.

I quit on the spot. Netherlands, hier ik kom!

They cover a one-way flight, two weeks at Hotel Casa Amsterdam, and a MacBook Pro. Dreamy.

I’d never been to the Netherlands. July 31, 2011: I land, ready for a year-long dive.

The honeymoon ends fast. The first months? Brutal. I barely understood anything. New culture, new habits, new colds. I was a fish on a bicycle.

But Amsterdam runs on English. So I committed. Meetup, classes, friends, Couch Surfing. Canadians, Americans, Germans, Russians—everyone fluent but me. I figured fluency is contagious. Turns out, a bit.

Plenty of awkward moments. Progress anyway.

I worked hard. Then startup roulette: dev team downsized. Most programmers out.

My first time getting the boot. Well—nudged, so they wouldn’t pay severance.

The world has wolves. Noted.

Panic Mode: Activated! 😱

Nine months in: unemployed, far from home, with toddler-level English.

I look up flights back. Then a switch flips: I can do this.

CVs fly. I hit meetups—JavaScript, Frontend Developers, Hackers & Founders, hackathons. I shake hands, drink bad coffee, keep showing up.

I make friends, build a network, and let the city know I exist.

Hey Netherlands, I’m not leaving.

Before my termination even ends, a new offer lands. Not even that hard. Momentum regained.

The rest is history in progress.

TL;DR ⚡️

Before you complain about your job, breathe.

Italy has brilliant developers.

Why stay where your work is undervalued?

In Italy, devs are often treated like button-pushers. In reality, we’re builders, designers, problem poets.

Stale environments kill curiosity. It can happen anywhere—but you don’t have to stick around.

If your project drains you, pack your laptop and change rooms. Find the buzz. Don’t wait to hate your boss, your coworkers, and yourself.

The internet nuked borders. You don’t need Amsterdam or London to level up. Send a sharp intro and a clean CV. Costs nothing.

If you feel underpaid and overlooked, remember: Germany, Switzerland, the Netherlands, the UK, Scandinavia—endless options. Reignite the spark you felt writing your first “Hello, World!”

This time, you’ll mean it. “Hello, World!”