</font><font color="blue" class="small">( I believe there was a time - before our generation, certainly - when you had a fair chance of finding people who took pride in their work, no matter what the job. Maybe it had to do with there being a higher percentage of craftsmen and skilled tradesmen during the 19th and early 20th century. )</font>
I guess I've been pretty lucky. I've known quite a few people who put themselves into their work.
In the late seventies I was a contract telephone cable splicing trouble shooter in the San Fernando Valley. The one place you can look like a hero one minute and a total fool the next is locating buried cable trouble. Since I was the only contractor on a crew of eighteen I got that job.
At first they had telco linemen digging up my trouble since I was kept busy just locating and repairing. Them boys would dig a splice pit that resembled a paint filter. Right size at the top but at three feet deep I couldn't stand on flat ground much less work. Plus they cried like adolescent girls after having their hair pulled by a cute boy.
So I got a contract labor crew that dug'em and buried'em for me. The foreman was named Raul. Union laborer for about fifteen years at the time, illegal, and owned three homes in the valley.
He was amazing. He wouldn't allow me to enter a pit until it was perfect. The cable would be exposed, the sides would be straight up and down. Tailings would be on a tarp on the sidewalk even if the pit was ten feet over on some lawn.
If I grabbed a shovel to help he'd have a snot slinging fit. Not a union thing, I belonged to the CWA too. But because his job was to prepare the pit. I was the repairman.
Diahcondra (sp) clover will die if you cuss it. It's a premium lawn but gawd it is finicky to the point of driving you crazy. We had pits in diachondra (sp) lawns and three weeks later you couldn't locate them. He was that good.
He was and is the ultimate example of pride in workmanship in my book. He might have only been a ditchdigger but by gawd he did it right, each and every time.
Sometimes fatigue or disgust will slap me upside the head to get me to do something I shouldn't on a job. Raul's image will cross my mind and I'll cowboy up because that's what he'd do in my place.
Thirty years ago most fathers worked in a job where they had standards of quality that were tangible. They could see them, touch them, know them. This enabled them to recognise quality in other trades too.
It isn't like that anymore.
I don't see the lack in pride in workmanship as a statement about a generation. I see it as the natural progression of poor management.
It wasn't the spit in your eye perfectionists that got promoted. It was the go along to get aheads. The ones who didn't let quality get in the way of putting out more than anyone else. The old look busy is more advantageous than actually working crowd.
They continued with what got them there and promoted those who thought like themselves. Quality and personal pride became catchwords to be used like a mop cleaning up a mess on the floor.
You can look at modern management top to bottom and you'll see layer after layer of go along to get aheads.
Therein lies the problem. /forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif