My wife and I recently had our kitchen pendant lights replaced by an electrician, and I had the opportunity to see and hear a master-craftsman at work. (See the end result in the photograph above.)
The electrician, who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, was teaching his twenty-something apprentice. And teach he did.
From the moment he walked in he showed and talked to his apprentice about the nuances of every part of the installation, from unpacking the lamps to the placement of the ladder—even to screwing in the light bulbs. He spent as much time talking about what could go wrong and how to address it (such as what to do if the canopy—the part that attaches to the ceiling—is too small) as he did highlighting what usually goes right. He also spent time on strategy: how to prep everything to minimize time going up and down the ladder, one of the time drains in installation. Heck, he even showed his apprentice the best way to separate out the recyclable packaging with the non-recyclable packaging!
Simply put, it was a master-class in how to replace kitchen pendant lights. There was a pride and a joy in what he did, and it was clear he took equal pride and joy in training his receptive apprentice.
I believe it’s this combination of attention to detail with strategic understanding, all within the matrix of pride and joy, which results in mastery of a subject, or a skill, or a craft—something I hope to achieve with my writing.