I’ve had a nagging feeling in recent months that I’m a bit of a dinosaur in a certain area of fashion. The reason? I still wear a wristwatch.

By wristwatch, I don’t mean a minicomputer screen strapped above my hand from which I get texts and monitor my heartbeat and blood pressure (or whatever else they manage to do). I mean a good ol’ fashioned wristwatch – the kind that looks classy and that kids struggle to read because they’re too used to digital time.

Because of my dinosaur status in this area, I was intrigued to read an article from the L.A. Times recently and learn that classy, non-smart timepieces may be making a comeback. And with the modest revival of such watches comes the need for those who can make, maintain, and fix such creations.

But that’s where things get a bit tricky. According to the L.A. Times, watchmaking became such a niche industry in recent years that it’s difficult to find high-quality workers able to keep up with the demand. So much so, that a Rolex watch training school in Dallas is free for students, and pretty much comes with guarantee of a decent-paying job following graduation. Now that’s the kind of economic landscape that many of us would like to see more of in America!

The trouble is, watchmaking requires skill, care, preciseness, and an attention to detail. In other words, companies like Rolex need to train and retain craftsmen … and there just aren’t many craftsmen left in this world, whether in the watchmaking industry or in other fields.

Why is that? Why is it that America was once peppered with craftsmen who built quality furniture that was passed down as heirlooms, constructed modest homes that were full of intricate details that now only the wealthy can afford, and wove timeless clothing that lasted decades, rather than unraveling after a few washes? And why do we no longer see that type of work?

The answer to the craftsman’s disappearance is likely found in the way we now approach the concept of labor.

For many today, work is just a place where we show up and put in our time, a mentality exacerbated just a few short years ago when we were told workers were either “essential” or “non-essential.” In other words, work is simply a way to get money to pay the bills and buy a little pleasure for a short season.

Such an attitude was observed by Richard Weaver in his famous work, “Ideas Have Consequences.” “When utilitarianism becomes enthroned and the worker is taught that work is use and not worship,” Weaver wrote, “interest in quality begins to decline.”

By contrast, the worker who sees his job as a craft, pouring himself into it, will have a different outcome.

“Before the age of adulteration it was held that behind each work there stood some conception of its perfect execution. It was this that gave zest to labor and served to measure the degree of success. … Pride in craftsmanship is well explained by saying that to labor is to pray, for conscientious effort to realize an ideal is a kind of fidelity. The craftsman of old time did not hurry, because the perfect takes no account of time and shoddy work is a reproach to character. But character itself is an expression of self-control, which does not come of taking the easiest way. … There is a difference between expressing one’s self in forma and producing quantity for a market with an eye to speculation.”

Those are some lofty words, but essentially, it seems that Weaver is saying that if we want to see a return of quality, lasting products, we must first begin recultivating the concept of craftsmanship.

With that in mind, what if instead of speed, efficiency, and quantity being our main goals in the working world, we began striving for perfection and a job well done?

What if instead of tolerating showing up and surviving until quitting time – in both ourselves and our employees – we sought to create excitement and enthusiasm for the labor we do, the mission and goal we’re all working toward together?

And finally, what if we began recognizing that our work is a reflection of our internal character? Would we see greater quality and perfection in our external work if we first worked on developing self-control and other virtues in our innermost beings?

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The republication of this article is made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal. 

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