Respect runs through everything I do in the trades. Respect for others is a given – but respect for the inherent dangers, the tools, and the work itself is something I’ve grown into since stepping away from the office and onto job sites.

A construction site can be a dangerous place. Between the tools, tripping hazards, elevated platforms, and gaps between joists, there’s plenty that can go wrong. It doesn’t have to be dangerous—but only if you approach it with the right mindset. Respect is what keeps things in check.

Then there are the tools that demand your full attention: nail guns, angle grinders, table saws, chop saws, circular saws. These aren’t just instruments of work – they’re reminders of how little room there is for error.

Coming from the office world – where slipping on spilled tea in the kitchen was the biggest hazard – these risks feel heavier. The stakes are higher, and I feel them every day.

The safety habits I’ve built over the years – from work, hobbies, and life – still apply: take your time, be methodical, and ask questions when you don’t know something. Some advice is better than others, but I take it all in. Like a kid seeing something for the first time, I know pretending to have the answers helps no one – not me, and not the people relying on me to do the job right.

It starts with me

I’ve also learned to give myself some grace. I’m still learning. I’m going to look awkward, fumble with tools, and produce results that aren’t always clean or precise. Whether it’s using an angle grinder, cutting James Hardie siding, or shaping flashing into drip caps, I’m learning with every attempt.

Online videos and tutorials can help fill in the gaps – YouTube, Instagram, forums – but they’re no replacement for time on tools. The job site is where real learning happens. Repetition, problem-solving in the moment, and working through mistake – that’s what makes things stick. Research is helpful, but the work is what teaches.

Learning doesn’t usually come easy. Most of the time, it shows up after frustration, after making the same mistake more than once. It’s like standing at a closed door – you knock, wait, and knock again until it finally opens. The lessons stick because you’ve earned them. Any success I’ve had, or what others might see as fearlessness, isn’t something I was born with. It’s the result of staying with it, digging until I’ve unearthed the outcome I’ve sweat and bled for.

It helps when your coworkers look out for you – offering a hand or a heads-up without being asked. I’ve likely been saved from a few close calls because someone else took the time to speak up.

But asking questions isn’t just about safety – it’s also about clarity. Knowing what’s expected leads to better use of materials, less time wasted, and a more confident approach. And confidence, especially when learning something new, goes a long way.

Respect for myself matters. At 48, I know the learning process takes time – and that every task, big or small, deserves the same focus. For me, patience is part of that respect. It’s how I make sure I’m not just picking up new skills, but holding onto them so I can build toward something more.

That same respect carries over to the job itself – the work we do, the homes we step into, the people I work alongside, and the employer who gave me this opportunity. Some might see my age as a drawback, being the new guy. But what I bring is experience – not in the trade, but in how I work. I was raised by a father who believed in earning your keep and doing things properly the first time. That stuck with me. This isn’t just a job – it’s something I’m building toward with purpose. A craft I’m proud to be learning.

Learning is timeless

I may be rounding the bend toward retirement, but I’m not past my prime when it comes to learning – or respecting what’s around me. That includes safety, the work itself, the people I work with, their time, and my own growth.

And that only happens when I ask questions – of others, and of myself.

The five “Ws” of journalism were once how I told stories. Now, they help me build things. Some things never go out of style. Like a well-worn pair of shoes, they give me something solid to stand on – and carry me forward.

One step.
Several questions.
And always – respect.