Story: The Table-Maker
A short story about a guy that used to love making tables (and still does)
The table-maker was good at making tables. He hadn't gone to table-making school, and he didn't sell them, but making tables came naturally to him.
He used modern tools and processes that were popular at the time which had open schematics -- anybody could build and use the power saw and power drill he liked to use. Anybody could build the tables he built, but he liked building them anyways.
Needing money to fund his table-making hobby he became employed at a large local business loading and unloading materials. He soon noticed, however, that while the building had many offices none of those offices had tables. Naturally he offered to bring his tools to work and make some tables for all the workers forced to stand around.
Not long after, the business made table-making his full-time job. There were many many rooms that needed tables, and many many people who had been working a long time without them. He took great joy in building custom tables for specific nooks and crannies. Tables that were the right shape to highlight a room or to stay perfectly out of the way. He would explore new techniques and experiment with materials and patterns. He became better and better at his trade.
Over time, as he grew older, he began to use common patterns that he had found successful. Table-making still brought joy, but it was no longer the experimental and exciting process it once was. It was stable table employment where he was well-appreciated (and well paid) for his consistent work.
Every night the table-maker would go home to his family, and after supper he would proceed to his workshop where he still experimented and explored the art of making tables. Not for money, but for fun and relaxation.
One day, the business announced they had purchased a new technology: an automated machine for making tables. Now anybody could make a table with the push of a button -- the table-maker, however, with all his experience and knowledge could leverage this tool better than anybody else. He knew which knobs to turn and which levers to pull to make the tables come out of the machine just right. What was more, his peers liked these new one-button tables just as much as his hand-crafted tables. In fact, many liked the new tables even more.
A\This was all fine and well for the table-maker, for the tables his peers wanted were no longer particularly interesting to make. Now he could help more people get access to tables much faster while working half as hard. They even gave him a raise and made him Director of Table Enablement!
But something unexpected happened: as he went home one night and sat in his workshop and held his familiar tools and looked at a half-constructed table in front of him he felt... annoyed. He could finish this table with the push of a button at work. Why should he waste his time using his old worn tools to screw each screw and cut each board?
He realized with dread that he no longer enjoyed making tables.
He continued to work, for making the machine make tables is what fed his family. He would go in and press the buttons and turn the knobs and produce tables that gave all those countless workers somewhere to work. He was still happy to help his peers, to be useful and well-liked and valued for his niche table-making knowledge, but it made him sad to realize that table volume had always mattered more to his workplace than his actual skills.
He was stuck. His career was blooming, but for what? Each night after supper he would avoid his workshop. He put away his tools and dabbled in other things. He missed table-making but felt truly miserable whenever he would try to pick it back up. If the machine made the tables at work and he no longer made tables at home... was he even a table-maker anymore? If not, what was he?
Then, on a random chance, he saw a woman working out of her garage on his way home from work. The woman appeared to be making a table.
The woman had old tools; not the power drill and power saw he was used to, but manual tools. The woman joined together the boards using old techniques; not the modern methods everyone knew.
The table-maker asked the woman why she would build tables this way when it took so long and looked so difficult. The woman looked up from her sawing and simply said "Because I love the act of making tables."
And so the table-maker went and purchased some old tools and some old books, then went home, had supper, and entered his dusty workshop. He made the most hideous table he had ever made, and it took more time than any table he had made before -- but he was happy.
For he knew now that there was table-making, and then there was the act of making tables.
He could do both.