Be Your Own Person

Anne Lamott: "The idea of spending entire days in someone else’s office doing someone else’s work did not suit my father’s soul.”

I believe that every dreamer wants to be his or her own person, and that this deep longing is tied inextricably to working for themselves. And so I take note when I come across people who seem to be doing just that—being their own person, working in their own way.

I recently came into possession of a pair of gorgeous leather Chelsea boots, which were unfortunately too tight across the arch. Phrased like that, you are maybe wondering how I came into the boots. It’s good to have some wonder in your life.

With the happiness of my feet in mind, I decided to have them stretched. Google surfaced a couple local shoe repair shops for me, and I called one with good reviews nearish my house—Humming Shoe and Watch Services. For just $18 said boots could be made comfortably wearable. Good deal.

When I went in to drop off my boots, the owner was just wrapping up with a man and a woman promoting…ah…shoe things. Who knows what in particular—I noticed brochures and a case of maybe tools or leather or sole material. The wonderfully ordinary sales people finished their conversation, shook hands, told the owner they hoped to earn some of his business and headed out. There was no wheelin’-and-dealin’ in this conversation.

After years in tech and seeing how complex sales operations can be, I found myself caught up in this no-tech, personal sales visit to a small shop. The realness and simplicity of all of it was a breath of leather-scented fresh air.

In a digital age of hustle and sameness, this tiny shop—I’d approximate it at a 400 square foot domain—was home to something so straightforward even a kid could understand. People bring in broken things, the owner tells them how much it will be to fix them, if reasonable they say “yes,” and he then uses his skills and ingenuity to fix the things.

There’s an additional something wonderful about the nature of his work. The problem-solving nature of his work is totally tangible, but more than that, it enables people to take care of the things they already own—shoes, luggage, purses, watches.

This intentional care of possessions stands in stark contrast to the disposable nature of consumerism which encourages all of us to just replace it or get a new one. Tell me you don’t feel better when you clean up a pair of shoes you’ve tired of and get months or years more wear out of them.

Anyway, as he rang me up, I started making small talk with a clever introductory question like, “So how long have you been in business?”

Something like 20 years—I should’ve made note.

My next dazzling question: “How did you get into it?”

This one elicited a slightly longer answer. “Making things with leather, like that bag for my wife,” he said, gesturing to a gorgeous leather satchel hanging on the wall. He elaborated that his leather-making hobby had turned into fixing leather things. And watches. And here he is.

There was no banter or sharing or swapping of stories, and only necessary curiosity about how exactly I wanted the boots stretched. He wasn’t curious at all where I got the boots.

My friendly questions got only brief but not unfriendly answers. And compliments—it really was a stunning bag—seemed only mildly interesting to him. Which I found very interesting.

What was it about my brief experiences with this owner and his business that captured so much of my interest? I’ve distilled down to two major takeaways.

He was just…himself.

One of my favorite Google reviews said, “The guy at the front isn’t grumpy or mean or anything. He just simply doesn't talk much.” How refreshing. He does what he does well, per my own experience and the reviews of most of his customers, and doesn’t feel the need to be anything other than who he is.

When I returned to pick up my boots, it was a rainy Friday afternoon. I dashed in on my way to meet friends, and he had classical music playing while he worked in the back. Because I love classical music and feel a kinship with anyone else who also does, I commented on it.

“You like classical music?” Another clever question, I know.

His answer was a smile and nod as he located my boots stashed on a not-very-tidy shelf. Removing the wooden stretcher things from them, he handed me my boots, I thanked him, and left.

I’m sure I’ll share this quote again, but when I read it a few weeks after my shoe shop experience, Mr. Humming flew to mind as I read about the author’s experience with her father:

Many years passed before I realized that he did this by choice, for a living, and that he was not unemployed or mentally ill. I wanted him to have a regular job where he put on a necktie and went off somewhere with the other fathers and sat in a little office and smoked. But the idea of spending entire days in someone else’s office doing someone else’s work did not suit my father’s soul. I think it would have killed him. He did end up dying rather early, in his mid-fifties, but at least he had lived on his own terms.¹

You know who else came to mind as I read this quote? My own dad.

He didn’t write for a living even if he is probably the most prolific writer I know. But he worked for himself his entire adult life, building then selling a custom seat cover manufacturing company. It suited his soul to work for himself and didn’t suit his soul to work for someone else.

Him being his own person has made an indescribable and lasting impact on me. I’d write more about him here, but his story warrants his own piece or seven. Those will be shared in future newsletters, I’m positive.

Back to Mr. Humming. That may not actually be his name, but it’s what most other Google reviewers call him, and there’s no website for me to check the About page. Speaking of website….

He keeps it simple.

There were no advertisements that I should follow him on social media or review him on Google or honestly anything promotional. No flyers to share with friends. No stickers to put on your water bottle, etc. He doesn’t even have a website. Because why would he?

It’s not that he’s uninvested in his business. He cares, and I noted that he took the time to respond tactfully to the rare unhappy review. Perhaps his business provides enough for the life he wants to live, and he doesn’t need to complicate his business or personal life with other locations, a bigger store, employees.

It’s his thing and he gets to choose how he does it no matter what experts say or what others are doing.

I sometimes think it’s silly that every business or company feels like they have to have an Instagram. Does a company manufacturing plastic rivets really need an Instagram showing life at their company?

May they do, maybe they don’t. Whether plastic rivets are even a real thing, I think you catch my drift. Just because you can do a thing (be on all the social media platforms) doesn’t mean you should. On that note, years ago I read about some major fashion company who was only on one social media platform. They just didn’t see the purpose of being on all the channels. How refreshing.

Have I extrapolated too much from my brief interactions? Have I made too many assumptions about why one man does what he does? You tell me.

I’d go back to interview him for more details, but I get the idea he would prefer to just keep doing what he’s doing without fanfare or even curiosity.

How’s your work?

One lesson I’ve learned in my entrepreneur journey is that it’s entirely possible to build a business you dislike. But usually it has less to do with the work you’re doing or not doing, but rather how much of you is involved.

How you go about it. How much posturing is involved. Whether you’re doing work you like, or whether you’re doing work you think you have to do before you can do work you actually like. Pretending to more success than you have, trying to skip the hard work stages to get right to passive income, posting incessantly on social media to grow a following to do…what, again?

We can learn a lot from a man who does work that matters, that he seems to like, that provides a living.

I wasn’t planning to share this quote here, but it’s a fitting way to end. Promise me you’ll be delighted when you see it again in a future post? Great. The quote comes from Maya Angelou:

Success is liking who you are, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.

That’s powerful stuff right there don’t you think? A great rubric for success for all dreamers.

From Bird to Bird by Anne Lamott, p. xiv

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