Craft… Or the Unexpected Virtue of Working at Your Work

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the idea of Craft. Of taking what we do and really working on it. Really incorporating skill into a pursuit, be it trivial in nature or not. And how, in this credentialist world, we can often give short shrift to training and deep work in areas which do not require a post-secondary or post-undergraduate degree.

First, Break All the RulesOne of the best books I’ve ever read is First, Break All the Rules: What the World’s Greatest Managers Do Differently by Marcus Buckingham and Curtis Coffman. In it, they talk about how great managers minimize their employees’ weaknesses while working on and enhancing their strengths. There’s a section that details how managers of hotels, for instance, work on rewarding their best cleaning staff, the ones who pay special attention to the little details, such as folding a triangle into the ends of toilet paper or putting the little chocolates on the pillow just so, instead of flinging them anywhere on the bed.

It isn’t something we think about much, the idea that being part of the cleaning staff or working the receptions desk at a hotel can be a learned and nurtured skill, at least beyond basic courtesy. But high-end hotels and other well-run establishments pride themselves on hundreds of these details.

The issue comes down to which positions do we feel utilize what combinations of talent vs hard work. There’s no doubt that it can be difficult to be on the cleaning staff. It’s largely a thankless job and although it may be menial, it is no more worthy of thought and good planning and execution. It’s safe to say that while any one person may be capable of doing this work for a short period, doing it for years is not something that comes easy. Menial labor takes anything but a menial mindset.

In the same vein, but on perhaps the opposite spectrum is working in the comedic arts. Last weekend, I attended the Bricolage Urban Scrawl, an annual fundraiser for the Bricolage Production Company, here in Pittsburgh. It was a fascinating two-day event, which showcased the talent and craft of those who work in the performing arts.

Society often acknowledges the insane talent of those who work in this area. Less acknowledged is the level of training employed. It’s easy to acknowledge how much work Meryl Streep did for Into the Woods. We’ve seen her for years and her work ethic is as legendary as her talent. But for those on the come-up, it should be no less easy to see that their nascent talent is significantly augmented by a worker’s mindset.

As I watched the Bricolage actors and actresses giving their monologues, I was struck once again by the level of craft employed by folks even when they were delivering lines which, in that moment, might have been extemporaneous. Especially to pull off the comedic moment. These performers had us d*mn near rolling in the aisles on the first night.

Chris Rock - Bigger & BlackerIt takes years of thought and planning to become good in comedy. Testing lines, working in little clubs with only a small handful of people at a time. Chris Rock didn’t magically come up with Bring the Pain or Bigger & Blacker. He worked at it.

My friend, Gary Curtis, left PNC a couple years ago to go out to Hollywood. Among other ventures, he’s been working on doing stand-up, which I think to be probably the toughest form of comedic endeavor. He sent me a YouTube video the other day of him doing some stand-up at a club and although he has a great sense of thinking on his feet and being funny (read: talent), he framed the vid to me as “working out new material” (read: Craft). One of the funniest, most ribald gentlemen I’ve ever known, up there testing out new bits.

Folks who care about what they do, who take pride in their work, don’t just wing it. They work. They work so consciously hard that even when they do end up winging it, their training takes them through the unplanned moment. A rude hotel guest. A heckler. A client who unexpectedly needs help documenting current state. From the highest to the lowest brow, every endeavor, at its most professional, is deserving of thought and nuance and craft. And respect.

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