I never mean to fall into rabbit holes, but here we are.
We just wanted a quote for windows and doors.
We got the quote, but not before we got a crash course in frame materials, insulation ratings, building codes, and product design patents. I now know the terms “double-hung” and “casement” and the difference between the two. The sales guy brought in an actual window and a heat lamp to demo how well that window would insulate the house. He had opinions about the different kinds of handles and the ergonomics of them.
Turns out there’s an entire universe of windows… and doors. I stepped away for a bit to take a call, and when I was done, R asked me what door style I preferred. “Idk, one that opens, closes, locks, and seals?” I suddenly had to think about which way I want my doors to open. Which side to have the hinges on. Whether I want any glass panes, and if so, how many. The material, the handle, the color, whether the front and side door should match. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
There’s a whole person immersed in that universe — someone who has spent years, maybe decades (as our particular window guy did), learning the ins and outs of something I barely thought about until now.
And I think that’s beautiful.
Not because I suddenly care deeply about windows and doors (though, honestly, I now notice window and door details more). But because he cared. You could tell he had seen it all: the houses that cut corners, the craftsmanship that still makes him proud, the tiny details most people never notice, but that he notices every single time.
We had a fun week of sales pitches and quotes and bids for house projects that we’ve been putting off for a while, so not just windows and doors. One of those projects is repainting the exterior of our house, and the paint guy had all kinds of thoughts about paint! About paint quality, yes, but also about weather exposure and surface prep and which colors fade fastest in Colorado weather and sun. He walked me through his team’s whole process, start to finish. He also did me a solid and gave me a few of his favorite color combinations to choose from. Seeing how many shades of white exist made my eyes glaze over.
And before the house projects, when we were buying this house in the first place… If you’ve been in the housing market long enough, you (well, maybe only if you’re me?) eventually find yourself an expert on zoning laws, easements, subfloors, and all the perks of living in a particular neighborhood. You can walk into a house and know exactlywhat to look for — the ceiling height, the slope of the lot (always get the water away from the house), the difference between sturdy and cheap finishes, the story behind a weirdly placed vent. We had been looking for our current house for years, and soon enough, our real estate agent was impressed by what I was checking out in every house. (I think he now checks if cabinets and drawers are soft close, every time.)
Plants are another example. Any decent plant shop has someone who can break down exactly why your pothos is leggy (it’s searching for light) or your snake plant is sad (it’s probably overwatered). They’ve studied light and water, learned how to propagate from a single node, and can tell you the difference between healthy and hopeless in an instant. And suddenly you realize someone has spent years learning which vegetables grow well together and which don’t. As someone who’s unalived many plants in my lifetime, I know this was hard-won expertise earned through A LOT of trial and error.
Expertise doesn’t always get framed as awe-inspiring, but it is. Somewhere out there, someone knows everything about the thing you just discovered. They’ve followed its changes, memorized the details, and developed a feel for what matters. And they light up when you ask a question most people overlook, when you show even an ounce of curiosity.
And it’s not just about trades or technical fields. There are experts in all fields, even fields you didn’t realize were fields. Someone can taste a wine and tell you the exact grape, region, and year. Someone can identify a bird by its call, or mushrooms by their shape — and knows which ones are edible and which ones are deadly (I guess that applies to both birds and mushrooms?). Someone knows every storyline (even the diverging ones, iykyk) in a decades-long comic book arc. Someone can identify which mushrooms are yummy and which ones will kill you. Someone understands the nuances of vintage cars — and really understands the nuances of vintage Porsches.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being a generalist, I love having many, many, MANY interests, but I also think it’s beautiful that there are people who go so deep into a subject. There’s joy in being able to explain why something works the way it does — and in watching someone else come alive as they do.
There’s so much in this world to learn, and I’ll continue to lean in whenever someone nerds out about something I don’t understand.
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