Doing the real work

Matthew Crawford's essay, The case for working with your hands, provides an excellent definition for determining what makes work worth doing:

"A good job requires a field of action where you can put your best capacities to work and see an effect in the world."

In this essay, an except from his book, Shop class as soulcraft, Crawford contrasts the work environments typical of the corporate world with those of manual labor. His observations about these cultural differences are extraordinarily accurate. I found myself in every passage.

Eighteen years ago I ran a business as a custom tailor in the back of a high-end vintage clothing store. I created original designs and provided restoration on the garments sold in the store. As much as my customers appreciated the work, they also disliked having to pay for it and often didn't hesitate to tell me. I sensed their vulnerability from not knowing if they could trust me or if what they wanted was possible. My job involved the execution of my craft and being a consultant and hand-holder, too.

During the years I spent tailoring clothes I experienced the full spectrum of attitudes that people maintain about practical, manual labor. On the one hand, some were genuinely gracious and understood the work as having value and requiring skill. On the other, there was always someone available at a drycleaner who would do it for less, but communication was an issue so they came to me. I understood very well the context of this prejudice toward sewing as work, but didn't believe it should be my problem to solve. From my point of view, I was offering a service just like any tradesman, and no less deserving of the same esteem as an electrician or mechanic. However, there seemed to be a strong distaste for this particular form of labor deep within the collective psyche, one I didn't share.

At one point, a well meaning person even said: "...I wouldn't be ashamed of doing that..." It never occurred to me that I should.

Fast forward several years, and I'm in a cubicle farm of a sportswear product group conversing with overseas factories about the fit and proportions of next spring's fashions. I have been sufficiently retrained as Crawford would say, "according to a certain cognitive style". 

Now rather than having the immediacy of directing my own actions, I am obligated to manage the work of others. I will never know or see them, but I'm utterly dependent on them creating garments according to specifications and instructions I provide. So while my previous skill development serves me well for orchestrating this, it bears no resemblance to what I call the "real" work.

Patterning, cutting, sewing, and finishing all require a knowledge and precision no less important than the clarity of emails I write to the reps and managers in Hong Kong. However, this labor went from being locally devalued to being globally devalued all so that we can purchase jeans and tee shirts at prices that have no connection to the true cost of production.

What I love about Crawford's essay is how well he grasps this transformation, and the resulting realization that work on either side of the ocean is not what it seems.

"When I first got the degree, I felt as if I had been inducted to a certain order of society. But despite the beautiful ties I wore, it turned out to be a more proletarian existence than I had known as an electrician."

And so, we are left to question the process by which any kind of work is esteemed.