Back in the day, in fact, even before the day, we all knew that old tradesmen were mad. It was just an accepted fact, fire is hot, ice is cold, Auckland has traffic problems, and old tradesmen are mad. And yes they were all men, tradeswoman didn’t go mad, because there weren’t any; they might have been mad because they were not allowed to do a trade, but they didn’t go mad as a result of doing their trade. The logical continuation of this known fact was that if you went into the trades sooner or later you too would go mad. It didn’t seem to matter which or what trade it was; plumbers, builders, electricians, boilermakers, glass-blowers, take your pick, if it had old tradesmen they were mad.
I am almost at the age and stage where I am due to become an old tradesman and the unquestioned belief of my youth is beginning to haunt me. I find myself in a Joseph Heller, Catch-22. You have to be sane to know that you are insane, but knowing that you are insane is proof that you are sane. My Catch-22 is slightly different, I don’t what to be considered an old tradesman so I try not to do mad tradesman things, but by not doing mad tradesman things I come across as a mad tradesman. The assumption is that I’m actually a tradesman in the first place, but I’ll save that for another time.
My climbing harness expired, the used-by date passed and even though there was still plenty of life in it, it had to be retired from service [and no this is not a metaphor for me – this is a factual statement about my old climbing harness]. Because I know what a worn-out harness looks like, because I knew the history of my harness, and because knew where and how it was stored, I considered not replacing it. But I also knew that wasn’t the right thing to do – why risk your life and any creditability that you may or may not have for a few hundred dollars. I bought a new harness, the same as the old harness, but newer. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been climbing trees and working with crews, I’ve actually been using my new harness. The new harness works well, but the old body… not quite so well. What I have found interesting is the mix of climbers that I have been working with. Some old and some new. The majority of the climbing that I have done over the past few years has been with experienced and very capable climbers. I had been climbing with people that knew their stuff, climbers that had developed and refined their technique and understood the equipment that they were using. Whatever we were doing, accessing the tree was a given; ‘can you get to that’ was never part of the conversation, and when something was tied on it stayed tied on and the knot would come undone after the fact. But this changed.
I’ve found myself in trees with young climbers, and it’s been great. The energy that youth have is amazing; Energiser bunnies, each and every one of them. But their basic skills were pretty basic. I found myself waiting in the tree, waiting and watching. I couldn’t help but give advice, direct and request; try from that side, give yourself some slack, go up a bit higher, just stand up, put your foot there. Before long my helpful advice was turning into frustration. Frustration and then confusion. My frustration, creating their confusion causing their frustration; sorry I mean my left, no your other right, not that crotch, the next union, there’ll do, not that one… bugger!
I had entered the mad tradesman zone, and then something weird happened; I started giving advice to the experienced climbers. I started giving advice to people that didn’t need advice. I had started to turn, I was becoming a mad tradesman. As the madness started to take hold part of me tried to stop it, but part of me couldn’t help itself. There were now two of me in the tree having an argument that nobody else could hear… A clear sign of madness. I’d start to suggest something, change my mind then just stop mid-sentence. Those that know me, will attest that this is something that I do, but even for me, this was something else. The outward appearance of my internal struggle to try and stop me from giving directions to those that knew better, while confusing and frustrating those that didn’t was one of me coming across as a mad tradesman. I had crossed the line, I had become a mad tradesman!
So where does that leave me – apart from being embarrassed, and having a new climbing harness? I am now of the belief that maybe old tradesmen weren’t all mad after all. Well, some of them probably were, there were lots of toxic chemicals and what-not used back then, but most of them probably weren’t.
I don’t think the youth are harmed by old tradespeople giving multiple and conflicting directions. The youth have energy and everything that they are doing is new, exciting and terrifying – interacting with old tradespeople just adds to the mix.
I think the worst thing that old tradespeople can do is give advice to people that don’t need it. Old tradespeople need to accept there is skill and experience out there, even if that skill and experience is but a fraction of theirs. I think the best thing old tradespeople can do is acknowledge good work when they see it. Praise quality and accept that there might be more than one way to do the job. If people want advice they will ask for it. If they don’t ask, they don’t need it, they don’t think your advice is worth having, or they don’t know that they need advice in which case they are not going to accept what’s offered, so don’t offer it.
I think old tradespeople have a lot to learn and I’m looking forward to becoming one.
- Written for Tree Matters (NZ)
Sounds like you are indeed an old tradesman and a parent – frightful combination! Go you sharing your wisdom though 🙂