I sympathize with anyone who really wants to fly. In fact, I have probably given up the best years of my life, a decade of income, the most of my liver and a train wreck of relationships while pursuing it. And I have flown my ass off. Almost literally, several times.
But someone should inform these gentlemen that what they are now embarking on has nothing to do with flying in the passionate term. Whatever they think flying is, this is not it. This is not where you start your career; this is where you finish it. This is where you give up any passion you once had in exchange for cold, hard cash. But cash, it seems, they already have.
The last thing any long-haul carrier needs from its Cadets is a passion for flying. They are the ones who become twisted and disillusioned as the realization dawns on them that the peak of their flying career was doing stalls on a Cessna 150, and whatever dreams brought them to their first solo will remain just that; dreams.
Some advice, gentlemen. Stay where you are and purchase an airplane instead.