Exemplary People: the Machinist and the Postal Clerk
Excerpt from “Why Knot?” Buy the book at Amazon
(I only knew these people briefly and in a single aspect of their lives, but their every action seemed to indicate focus, intensity, consistency, and dedication. They were proud of what they could do, and how they did it showed who they were.)
The Machinist
Bob was foreman at Econotool, a machine shop in the suburbs of Philadelphia. I worked there for a couple of summers when I was in college. They made cutting tools which were resold by Black and Decker. They taught me a few simple repetitive tasks. I silver-soldered carbide blades to steel shanks, keeping a close watch on temperature and time. I also ground those carbide blades on a diamond wheel, using a rig designed to sharpen them at the specified cutting angle. It was easy to clamp the raw piece into position and grind away. But it was difficult to do this hundreds of times a day and give it your full attention — to not fall half-asleep with boredom, and blunder disastrously.
Bob knew everything there was to know about the machines I was working on and all the other machines in the plant. He could clean them and fix them. Given a blueprint, he could make rigs, set them up, and adjust them, so they would turn out quality product repeatedly. If he didn’t have a replacement part, he could machine that part from scrap metal; and he enjoyed such unexpected challenges.
This was blue-collar work, but Bob wore a brightly clean white shirt, proudly. He worked hard, but at the end of the day that shirt was always as clean as at the beginning. He worked with no waste movements, no spills, no accidents — all from unremitting dedication to what he did.
He reminded me of a craftsman in the Middle Ages whose craft was his identity and became his name, like Cooper or Smith, who conscientiously devoted his full attention to his work, day after day. From the way Bob worked, you knew he believed that what he did mattered, and that doing it well gave his life meaning. Money was secondary. His work was his religion. He handled his tools and his machinery with the respect and pride of a priest serving mass.
The Postal Clerk
For 30 years, Jack, now retired, was a clerk at the Post Office in West Roxbury, MA. He approached his job with a level of seriousness and respect similar to Bob at Econotool. He knew every postal regulation by word and in spirit. When a question arose, his fellow clerks turned first to him, not the book. When a customer had a question or misunderstood the options and was about to make a costly decision, Jack explained the rules and also the practical aspects of how the mail is handled, without talking down. You got a lesson on the Postal Service and also on life, from someone who could have been a great teacher but who took pride in being a great postal clerk.
Jack didn’t just sell you stamps and make sure you had filled out the right paperwork for shipping packages overseas or applying for passports. While doing everything that needed to be done as efficiently as it could be done, he would smile and give you a tidbit of information or advice for the future; and he’d often set in motion some of the many elaborate gadgets he had on display in his work area. These were liquid mind-mystifiers — turn them upside down and bubbles moved in random but beautiful patterns, confined yet free, and demanding your attention.
I hope that in retirement Jack still finds ways to take pleasure from and pride in the necessary details of life. I miss him.
