The Gift of Loving Your Craft: What Shoe Shining Taught Me About Engineering
It’s Reyes Magos night here in Spain—that magical evening when kids go to bed buzzing with anticipation, wondering what gifts the Three Wise Men will leave under the tree. But I’ve been thinking about a different kind of gift lately: the one you give yourself when you genuinely love what you do. And oddly enough, that realization came from watching someone shine shoes on YouTube.
I have a confession: after long days of intense mental work, I find myself watching shoe shine ASMR videos to decompress. I know—sounds strange. But there’s something hypnotic about watching a craftsman take a scuffed, worn pair of shoes and transform them with nothing but attention, technique, and time. Take this video by Jason Dornstar as an example. You can see it in every movement: the love this guy feels for his craft.
The Rhythm of Mastery
What captivated me wasn’t just the satisfying transformation—though that’s part of it. It was the rhythm and intentionality behind every gesture. You can tell this craftsman has perfected his movements over years, developing an intuitive sense for when to apply pressure, when to ease up, when to switch techniques. There’s no rushing, no cutting corners. Just steady, deliberate work.
But here’s what really struck me: the attention to subtle details. Mid-polish, they’ll pause, spot a tiny imperfection most people wouldn’t notice, and take the time to address it. Not because anyone’s watching or because it’s strictly necessary—but because that’s what loving your craft looks like. You don’t just do the job; you do it right, because the doing itself brings you satisfaction.
Watching this, I realized I was seeing something I recognize in my own work—or at least, in the work I aspire to do. That same focus on the details, that willingness to stop and fix something small because it matters to you, that satisfaction in the process itself, not just the outcome. It’s what separates someone going through the motions from someone truly engaged with their craft.
When the Work Becomes the Reward
As software engineers, we spend our days immersed in abstractions and complexity—systems, architectures, patterns, trade-offs. It’s intellectually demanding work that rarely offers the tactile satisfaction of transforming something physical. But the principle is the same: loving the craft means finding joy in the details.
It’s choosing to refactor that messy function even when no one asked you to. It’s pausing during a feature build because you spotted a subtle edge case worth addressing. It’s caring about variable names, error messages, and code structure not because it’s required, but because it matters to you. When you love the craft, the work itself becomes intrinsically rewarding. You’re not just chasing the dopamine hit of shipping; you’re enjoying the journey—the problem-solving, the iteration, the gradual refinement.
This is what I’ve been rediscovering during my sabbatical. After burning out in a high-pressure environment, I’d lost touch with that intrinsic motivation. The work had become a grind, a checklist of tasks to close. But rebuilding my relationship with engineering through PermaTechHub has reminded me what it feels like to care about the details again—to make architectural decisions thoughtfully, to write code that feels intentional, to enjoy the process of building something meaningful.
The Craft That Chooses You
Not everyone finds that love in their primary work, and that’s okay. Maybe your craft is woodworking, cooking, gardening, or yes—even shoe shining. The medium doesn’t matter. What matters is finding something that lets you lose yourself in the details, where time disappears because you’re fully present in what you’re doing.
For me, that craft happens to be software engineering. But I’ve learned it’s not automatic—you can’t force it, and external pressure can extinguish it. Loving your craft requires the space to care, the permission to slow down and do things thoughtfully, the freedom to pause and fix that tiny imperfection because it matters to you, not because it’s on some sprint board.
That’s one reason I’m being deliberate about the environments I pursue as I return to the job market. I’m looking for places that value craft over speed, where “senior” means wise and intentional, not just fast and efficient. Where people understand that the best work comes from engineers who genuinely care about what they’re building—and have the space to show it.
A Gift Worth Giving
On this night of gifts, here’s what I’ve realized: loving your craft is a gift you give yourself—and indirectly, everyone who benefits from your work. When you genuinely care, it shows. The code is cleaner. The architecture is more thoughtful. The details are tighter. Not because you were forced to care, but because you couldn’t help it.
So as the routine starts fter tomorrow, as we all return to our keyboards and terminals and meetings, I hope you find moments to reconnect with what you love about your work. Maybe it’s solving a particularly thorny problem. Maybe it’s mentoring someone through a challenge. Maybe it’s that quiet satisfaction when a refactoring clicks into place and everything just feels right.
Whatever it is, give yourself permission to care about it. To pause and fix that small thing. To take pride in the details. Because that’s not perfectionism or overthinking—that’s craft. And when you love what you do, the work becomes its own reward.
Here’s to finding joy in the details, one deliberate movement at a time.