Pride in Workmanship

If you want your scissors sharpened or your shoes repaired in the U.S. nowadays, odds are good you probably have to go to a mall, if you can find those services at all. Here in Thailand there are thousands of street vendors whose specialized skills can still be purchased at a pushcart… assuming that the customer arrives before the goods are rolled down the street toward the vendor’s home.

In our neighborhood sits a guy who does all things wristwatch. He changes batteries, replaces wristbands, solders loose wires. His prices are reasonable. Best of all is his slow, patient technique. I’ve been known to wait a whole week for him to be around, just so I can watch him work.

Last time I brought him a problem, he spent at least 15 minutes longer on it than I would have expected, just so he could get it right. Whenever he chose a tool, it was the perfect one for the task. Removing the watch’s crystal, he paused to dust off the face with a cool little bellows-like gizmo that seemed designed for only that one task and none other. Then he fished through drawer after hidden drawer in his cart, pulling out spare parts that presumably he had saved “just in case.” It wasn’t enough for him to find the odd-sized band or the custom clasp—he also had to hone and file and create a tight fit.

His focus, like his tools, is sharp. Not for him the side conversation or the wave to a passerby. Even when he’s finished and I try to slip him something extra, his directed gaze doesn’t change. “It’s all part of the service here,” he says, passing me back my attempted tip.