Take Ownership
I fixed a faucet today. This may not seem like such a big deal, but trust me when I say that, for me, this was a big win. To give a little background, this was more of a re-installation project than a maintenance issue. We bought a new faucet a year ago and have had significant trouble with it since—and that had been a point of shame for me for just as long. At 39, this should be an easy task no matter your level of handiness, but I caught some tough breaks. The coupling device that anchors the faucet did not fit properly under the sink due to the strange design of the area where the sink meets the counter. As a result, the faucet was continuously loose and flopping around whenever it was called into action. I have been tinkering with this damn thing since day one. I have been underneath that sink more times than I can count trying to secure this thing. I even brought out a professional who gave it a shot. Two days after he left, it was loose again. I had failed every time—until today.
The difference between today’s successful installation attempt and the previous ones was focus. Prior to today, each time I attempted to fix this damn faucet went exactly the same. I muscled it into place, I fought against the elements. I used virtually the same strategy each time, and this resulted in the same failure. Along with these failures came further frustration and embarrassment. Not today. Today I took my time. I did not attempt to complete the task as quickly as possible. Instead I took a step back and thought about what needed to happen. I concocted a different measure to tackle the problem and I stuck with it, no matter how long the chore took. I was OK with the fact that I would be tucked into this uncomfortable position for as long as it would take, squeezing myself into this tiny cabinet under the sink, twisting and turning every joint on my body so that my screwdriver could find its target. So far, the results are stellar. This faucet now protrudes from the sink in a proud manner. It has easily withstood the day’s action and aggression. I am confident in the install and I am confident in myself. Weird how that happens. I finally admitted to myself that I had failed and that I needed to put more of an effort into this project—and it worked. I am positive that this success, this confidence, will give me the assurance to boldly attempt even more challenging tasks in the future.
None of this would have happened to me at 28. First of all, I would not have purchased a new faucet for my kitchen because I would not have cared. Buying a replacement would have eliminated all the hassle that has tortured me over the past year, but I would never have experienced the feeling I did today. The feeling of victory, no matter how small, is a pleasurable one. Doing things that are hard, or new, are worth the effort. My 28-year-old self wouldn’t have even considered this.
At 39, these small, mundane, daily things are suddenly full of importance. They are now meaningful enough to think about, ponder, and even write about. Being 39 has changed my mindset on so many things. I do not think I have ever had a more positive mindset in my life.
Another way this faucet symbolizes my life at 39 is that I worried about it affecting someone I care about. The haphazard installation has been annoying my wife for a few months now. I felt bad. I felt guilty. I wanted those feelings to stop, both for her and for me. I know she loves this faucet (it’s her first faucet purchase as well), but she did not love how it was operating. She was using this equipment many times a day and I could see the disappointment on her face each time it flopped around. I am proud that I put an end to that, but somewhat dissatisfied with myself that it took so long. Now that I see how much better she feels about it, I wish I would have taken more decisive action sooner. I have come to learn that when something—no matter how small—is letting down your loved ones, you need to act.
That leads to today’s moral: ownership. Taking ownership in your work is a key to life, no matter how you define work. How could I let so many months go by with this loose faucet, with this disappointed wife, and still have any pride? I understand the faucet was a minor part of my daily life, but it all adds up over time. I should have taken ownership in my installation and perfected it the first time. It makes me wonder what else I am letting slide that may seem insignificant. Is there anything at work that could negatively impact my career? Are there other things—more important things—that I am ignoring in my marriage? How about my friendships? What is the loose faucet in those relationships? My goal is to not let this happen any longer. When I do something, I will do it right, or at least to the best of my ability. If I notice that something I did does not live up to expectations, I am going to fix it immediately. I will not let the days of low effort add up and erode my pride over time. For months, I have hated this faucet. Now I owe it both an apology and a thank you at the same time. In some strange fashion, it has pointed out errors in my ways. Each time I turn the handle on my new, sturdy friend, I will take a little pride, knowing that I owned up to the previous failure.
-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)