Pride in What You Do

Since I can't figure out how to edit gadgets on the new "improved" Blogger. And I really hate new improvements with software.

New Meadows, ID. 

Now reading: Sharpe's Honor #7, by Bernard Cornwell.

For the first time in the longest time -- and maybe the first time ever -- I stood outside the work area and watched a mechanic repair my bicycle. He found out why the symptom reappeared, after it was supposedly fixed by a bicycle shop in another town. (And he was already familiar with the reputation of that other shop.)

I asked him questions and learned a lot about how to fix this problem "in the field". (Traveling long distances to a bicycle shop can be ridiculous.)

This was a great experience -- one that you rarely get because of the sign that says, "Insurance Regulations Do NOT Permit Customers in Shop Area, " or the usual joke about how much per hour you pay if you leave the premises, how much you pay if you watch, how much you pay if you give advice, etc.

When it was done, I tipped the mechanic!

His pride in workmanship will rub off on me. And they got quite a bit of business off of me. Who would have guessed that I would have an experience like this in a hectic, congested, Colorado-style, tourist hell hole, like McCall, ID!

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More and more I go to Farmer's Markets on Saturdays, particularly in late summer, when it seems like everything is getting harvested. It doesn't matter if some of these foods are nominally cheaper at the big-box grocery store because they are so mediocre there.

I never would have thought that you can buy fresh peaches in Idaho, but they have a fruit belt half way down into the Salmon Trench. Idaho has lots of river trenches.

In Arizona last winter I bought some rye bread from a seller who was "vertically integrated." They didn't just bake the bread, they also grew it. He whipped out his smartphone to show me his mature rye field. It was beautiful, like that scene at the beginning of the movie, Gladiator, when the guy walks through the field of grain. 

From dvdBeaver.com

 

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These two experiences had something in common: I was in the presence of people who took great pride in tangible work. They appeared to love their work. To some extent, I was an appreciative audience who 'validated' them. But that's fine.