Category: Personal Favorites

The Tale of the Foul-mouthed Countertop Guy can be viewed through a lot of filters: that of the artisan, the customer, macroeconomics and on and on.

However the lesson embedded in the story has nothing directly to do with haggling, the value of craft or Socialism.

Instead, it is about the word “no.”

Run your business so you always, always have the power to say “no.” No to a supplier, a customer, a request for proposal (RFP), an employee. Never overextend yourself or your business so you are powerless and must say “yes” to the customer who demands an unreasonable price, the supplier who treats you like a gnat, a piece of work that is dangerous, an employee who does not pull his or her weight.

Take away whatever you like from the story, but that was the intended lesson, like it or no. And I do like no (though I’m quite polite when I use the word).

— Christopher Schwarz

Everyone has something to teach me. Even if it’s as simple as: Avoid that person.

As John and I plunge into our eighth year of running Lost Art Press, I am reminded of three things that I learned about life and business from Steve Shanesy, my old boss at Popular Woodworking Magazine. Steve was the best boss I ever had. And though we didn’t always see eye to eye about the magazine’s content, we always worked together – never against one another.

Lesson No. 1: Business is a fight. It’s a struggle and it always will be. If you think it’s going to get easier next financial quarter or next year, you are wrong. So either accept that, or go work for someone else. Corollary: Business and magazines are not democracies, nor should they be.

Lesson No. 2: Sometimes the best action is to do nothing. It’s easy to react quickly to something. But that’s not always the best thing to do. Sometimes doing nothing and watching things unfold is the best course. I spent 18 years observing Steve and learning this valuable skill from him – it might be the best thing he ever taught me. Know when to act swiftly and when to pause.

Lesson No. 3: It’s a story that Steve told me once about one of their countertop suppliers when he was in the furniture trade. One time Steve was visiting the guy’s shop when some customers came in to pick up their order, a custom-made countertop.

The customers asked for a discount – not because the work was shoddy, but because they could.

The countertop guy said: No. The customers said, “OK, we’ll pay full price.”

The countertop guy said: No. I won’t sell this to you. I’d sooner destroy the countertop than sell it to you. Get the &^$% out of my shop.”

I’ll allow you to extract the lesson from that story.

Year eight has begun. Let the fight continue.

— Christopher Schwarz

It’s no secret that I like beer. So I get asked by students occasionally: Do you drink while you are in the shop? The answer?

Absolutely, yes.

Now, before you read another word, know that I am not an uptight or judgmental person by nature. Plus, I want to live a long life with all my natural-born fingers attached to my hands – not sitting in mason jars on the mantlepiece.

Now the “correct” answer is to never ever touch a woodworking tool if you have even seen a beer commercial on television. Jamais! Nicht! Etc.! Historically, we know this teetotaler approach is new. Craftsmen of all trades drank all the time in the shop. There are so many accounts of drinking in shops from the 18th until the early 20th centuries that it’s weird to find an early account of a shop where people didn’t drink.

The drink was likely lower in alcohol than what we consume today. But judging from the quantities listed in historical accounts, we are all on the same historical Breathalyzer.

So what is a reasonable approach? Can you have a beer in the shop in Saturday afternoon?

Here’s my thinking, which has been developed during the last 20 years by doing stupid things (a bottle of wine and a lathe do not mix) and finding my limits.

If I have had any alcohol in the last few hours, I won’t turn on machinery. OK, I might turn on a shop vacuum. But I’m not going to mess with cutting tools.

If I have had one beer, all hand-tool operations are go. I’ll saw, plane and chisel to my heart’s content. By the way, I don’t feel anything after one beer, but I’m 6’3” and 180 pounds.

If I have had two beers or less, I’ll do donkey work. That means I’ll do some handplaning, maybe some rough sawing. But I won’t cut joinery and I definitely avoid the chisels, which are the single-most dangerous hand tools in the shop.

After three beers, I’ll clean the shop – there are very few broom injuries reported to the federal government. I put away tools. I oil stuff. Or I’ll stare at my work in progress and make notes. As a writer, I appreciate the effect that alcohol has on the creative process – do not discount it. Alcohol removes inhibitions, and sometimes that’s what I need when I stare at a work in progress. I need to decide: This stinks. Or, this needs radical surgery.

I rarely drink more than three beers in a night, unless things are going really well or really poorly. Then I sit down with the laptop and write a blog entry, which may or may not get published the next day.

So that’s the truth. You might disagree with my approach, but all I can do is repeat the following quote from one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th century: “Lighten up, Francis.”

— Christopher Schwarz