johnmaconline

The passionate craftsman cares about context.

The passionate cabinet maker cares about how the cabinet looks when it leaves his shop. But he also cares a great deal about how it looks after installation.

Is it level?
Is it placed at the proper height?
Was it cleaned after installation?
Do the colors work in the room?

He would love to show you the cabinets in someone’s home when installed up to his specifications. In fact, if you ask to see them, he knows you care about him.

The passionate craftsman cares about tools.

When a passionate chef shows up at the restaurant, she brings her own knives, and she likely won’t let you use them.

She cares about her knives and who uses them because they are an extension of her. They feel familiar and sound in her hands. They give her confidence in her ability because of this familiarity. They never distract her.

In reward for their service, she carefully cleans, sharpens, and stores them.

You should ask her about her knives because although she may not let you use them, she’d love to tell you about them. In fact, this is how she knows you care about her.

You want a craftsman on your team. To find one, start by asking about context and tools.

At 22, I dove headfirst into corporate life at a large defense contractor making satellites. Guided by Jim, a veteran colleague, I worked on a team that tackled satellite nuclear survivability — a highly specialized and novel expertise in the industry. 

However, three months in, my first test arrived. Charlie, my manager, asked me to learn some specialized modeling techniques from Bill. So I bounded over like an eager puppy dog.

“Charlie wants you to teach me how you do your modeling so I can help.”

[OK, in hindsight, I can see the error in my approach]

Bill paused, turned around slowly, peered over his reading glasses and said, “Get the hell out of here.” 

Smacked right in the face. At first, I wasn’t sure he was serious.

“Um…um….what?” 

“Get out of here. This is what I do. It’s my job. If I teach you what I do, then they’ll just lay me off. Tell Charlie, ‘no way.'”

Confused and dejected, I turned to Jim. He consoled me, saying we could master the task ourselves. Sure enough, with Jim’s help, I quickly picked up the guarded techniques.

A year later, I was flourishing, Jim had been promoted, and Bill was laid off. His fear had turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Bill’s refusal stung, but Jim’s willingness to guide me ignited my passion. I can still feel that terrible feeling as Bill refused me. 

The incident underscored the importance of adaptability, mentorship, collaboration, and continuous learning. It taught me that being a valuable team member isn’t only about expertise—it’s also about caring for your colleagues.

There are no wrong questions. Or sometimes we say there are no dumb questions.

You know this isn’t true. That’s just something we say, albeit with good intentions.

Ever been frustrated getting answers from your toddler? What about your spouse? How about getting what you want from Google?

Last week, I needed Google to help me solve a problem. I needed to verify (or refute) the validity of an inspection sticker on a truck we just bought (because I got taken). I had an ID number from the sticker, but I didn’t know the terminology or the right question to ask. I needed to do some prompt engineering. Here’s what I tried:

“pa state inspection licenses” — no
“pa state inspection licensees” — no
“find pa state inspection by knowing the ID” — aha!

That gave me something that looked interesting: Safety Station List by County for the Web

That was the right question.

When you ask the right question, you get what you want. Sometimes that’s information back to you (aside: as I suspected, the ID from the sticker was not on the list — the sticker is fraudulent). Sometimes the question passes the information in the other direction. And sometimes, the right question inspires, motivates our caring engine, and sets us on the journey.

Prompt engineering has been around since a human asked the first question. We invented the name recently, but we’ve been engineering prompts since we opened our mouths.

Who is a good prompt engineer? Someone who asks the right question.

It can’t go down any further.
It’s always cheaper to fix it rather than buy new.
But if I quit, I lose all of my vacation.
I’m full, but I spent good money on this meal.
I’ve already got 3 years into this degree.
Quitters never win.

I worked at Lucent Technologies during its heyday.

As an employee, I benefitted through an employee stock purchase program which allowed me to purchase shares at a 15% discount.

This was great because the stock just kept going up and up and up. So I kept buying and watched the value of my account go up and up and up right along with the stock price. I did this for several years.

And then the news came out — Lucent was cooking the books.

Crash. Overnight, the stock price and the value of my account cut in half.

I remember when that happened, my colleagues and I said to each other, “Should we sell today? It can’t go down any further, right? We should just sit tight.”

But it did go down. And down and down and down. I rode it right into the ground. By the time I sold it, I had lost $27000 real dollars. Not a paper loss, or a missed gain. I had spent $27000 that no longer existed.

Why? Emotions. Sunk cost emotions.

Sometimes the smartest ones simply know when to quit.

Today is more about questions than observations and answers.

How can I connect with God today?
Is it even possible?
Is universal connective energy real?
If so, can I shape it?
What does “real” mean?
What is the relationship between God and universal connective energy?
How can I be more generous?
Is it going to be ok?
Am I paying enough attention?
Am I good enough?
How can I fix my foot?
What is my purpose with this writing?
What should I do today that my tomorrow self will thank me for?
When is the right time to get the legal system involved?
What do I need to care more about?
Who do I need to care more about?
How can I be someone that makes others feel good about themselves?
What should I be open to?

Who do you think you are?
How dare you?
Why would you do that?

These are trigger phrases. Either they trigger you to hit the brakes or step on the gas. What you do depends on how you see yourself. 

If you see yourself as someone who isn’t worthy, you hit the brakes. If you see yourself as someone who just might be the right person, you hit the gas.

Of course, how you see yourself is really “how you perceive yourself.” And perception is reality. 

Change your perception. Change your reality.

Dee Snider was my hero for a minute.

I was a child of the ’80s. Although I grew up in a conservative Christian home, my parents allowed me to listen to and play the music I liked. And I liked the hard stuff. They endured my garage bands creating horrible, wonderful, overdriven Marshall stack sounds from the basement of our three-bedroom ranch house in the country. They also endured my typical ’80s oversized boombox blasting metal from my bedroom at the end of the hall. 

They got it. They respected my choices and empathized with what moved me. 

But what my parents allowed was threatened by the “my morality is the correct morality” crowd. The PMRC, with its talons into the government, wagged its manicured finger and insisted that our music was sure to harm us.

And then, in September of 1985, Dee Snider took the stand. Edgy, yes. Blustery, sure. Disrespectful? Damn straight. But also eloquent, knowledgeable, and right on — keep the government out of the censorship business. 

A group of three easily decides what it will and won’t censor. But with a group size of 330 million, using the big stick of the government gets awfully attractive. 

Various political, religious, and social groups pass the censorship baton back and forth as each loses or regains power. When our team gets the baton, we use the government to ban books, censor art, and influence media platforms that run against our ideology. 

But it doesn’t help because, fundamentally, it comes across as “you’re bad.” 

Instead, let’s resist the baton and instead lean into respect and empathy. Respecting choices. Empathizing with personal journeys and worldviews.

When we care enough to do the hard work, there’s room for all of us.