Who did I really work for?
When I was a kid in my 20's I had all this motivation. Stupid notions like "I'm going to buy tools and learn to use them and work for myself"
Sounds good enough to pass, huh?
It don't work that way.
I got all the tools. I got very good at what I did. I thought I owned those tools. I bought them, right?
I didn't own them, they owned me. I didn't work for myself, I worked for them. The day I finally came to understand was one day using my (at least) tenth table saw I noticed that I had only ever used one for me and that was my first one and that was only to learn how to use it well. I kept thinking and thinking and now 5 or more pressure washers, airless house painters, 100's of saws, hundreds of drills and accessories. All of them I only ever used for myself to learn with and from there they were nothing but parts of something that owned my ability to make a living.
Without me they are trash fit to be taken from me and used by another. Hardly what I'd call a good friend. More like a woman waiting for someone else to run off with. But I on the other hand am a tiny bit more loyal. Not because I'm polite or consumed with concerns about them but because I need them to survive at any level above extreme poverty.
That my friends is the ultimate insult, both to my ambitions and myself. To fall into a trap like that is a sign of arrogance, shortness of foresight and a lack of ability to see beyond ones selfish pride.
I don't know anything beyond the fact that I miss my tools and loved my work even though I never worked for myself....
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