In their words
I grew up in Bridgeland when it was still a working class neighbourhood, before the boutique coffee shops moved in. My uncle got me my first job on a crew when I was nineteen, and I spent the next four decades under sinks, in utility rooms, in crawlspaces no grown adult should have to fit into.
Plumbing is one of those trades where people only think about you when something is wrong. And when something is wrong they're usually panicking. I've gotten calls at eleven at night from people who don't know where their shutoff valve is while water is coming through the ceiling. That's not a good moment to be learning.
What I notice with younger homeowners now is they want to understand things. They're not just going to hand you a credit card and look away. They want to know what you're doing and why. I'm not precious about my trade. I want people to understand their own homes — know where your shutoff is, know what your water pressure should sound like, know the difference between a repair you can manage yourself and one where you genuinely need to call someone.
My knees made the retirement decision for me. But my brain still works fine, and my wife would prefer I talk plumbing with someone other than her.