Why do we do it?

What drives us to do whatever it is we love to do? What causes the moment, the exact moment, where you know that you’ve found whatever it is that you want to do for the rest of your life?

So many people in the flooring industry are second, third, fourth, even fifth generation flooring installers - either by choice or by force. I’m always interested in what cause the floor bug to bite someone.

So many flooring installers are intelligent, articulate, decent people. They’re college educated, they’re good parents, they’re good citizens. They could’ve done so many other things, but they chose a profession which will bring them nothing but physical pain and heartbreak. A trade that was once well respected and protected that has degraded to the point of it no longer being a profession if you allow it.

I asked my dad what got him into the business. I always wonder if he was just being funny or if this is the legitimate story, but this is how he knew he wanted in: He said he was working at a gas station one day, a van rolled up. Carpet hanging out of the back, the crew was just coming back from an install. The door slid open, beer cans fell out. The guys were loud, laughing and seemed like they were having a blast. Dad said that’s when he thought that’s what he wanted to do - he wanted to enjoy his work as much as those guys did. I think he did just that.

I remember the exact moment I knew flooring was going to be the career path for me. It was the summer of my junior year of high school. I was a competitive soccer player so I was in good shape. I was helping my dad out with an install at a gym somewhere around Annapolis, MD. I was outworking everyone, making a point to get two shots of carpet taken up and out to the van while guys would get one shot done. This would drive my dad nuts for two reasons - he would start barking down the guys throats to step up, that a kid was making them work bad, but he also knew I really enjoyed the work - and he was adamant about his kids not following his footsteps.

That day was the first time I spread glue and trimmed my first seam. To this day I can feel the transfer of touch as the razor blade slowly cut through the actionbac and carpet fibers, the rubber cushion of the row cutter gently vibrating through each grid, sliding smoothly as long as I stayed in row. My dad stopping me, giving me his tape measure to put in my other hand - creating a sliding effect to keep me moving without having to stop every few feet to reposition myself.

I had a similar experience with my oldest son this summer. I was cutting about 700sf of custom herringbone flooring as the final stage of a large hardwood project. He was observing and learning, grabbing the wood and racking it in rows with the tounges oriented the right way to keep me moving. It was a proud dad moment, but at the same time I felt the same apprehension my dad probably felt - I knew my son was falling in love with something, and there’s nothing I could do about it.

So what drives someone to do this? For me, it’s the work. While I protect myself and price my work for what it’s accordingly worth, I love the feeling of getting home, easing out of my van, walking to my front door to my kids happy to see me, and knowing I did the best I could do, and did something great with my hands today.

And in a world of ever increasing volatility and instability from evolving technology, it’s something that can’t be replaced. While my dad was adamant about trying to keep his kids out of the trade, It’d be an honor for me to have any of my kids work along with me one day. Hopefully there will always be plenty of customers who will appreciate original craftsmanship.