Adaptive Curmudgeon

On Expertise: Part 2

Ya’ ready for a story with absolutely no specific details? Has the political season inured you to that yet? Great, here goes:

Consider society as a whole. We live in a sophisticated interlocking network of skills and technologies the likes of which has never before existed. The average person may have an iPhone but virtually none of us have the slightest fucking clue how it operates. Or why. Or how to fix it if it breaks.

We all sense that someone somewhere does know. Some smart motherfucker in a labcoat somewhere can make the chips that drive it. Some other smart person knows the chemistry of the batteries we bitch about. A group of smart people setup the communication network for which the phone itself is merely an access point. A smart but devious group create the code-based wiring harness that lets Facebook jack straight into your cortex. Etc…

From there it goes downhill. An army of not quite as clever but still very competent people keep the towers standing and the system powered. Others code stupid games and make sure you can track your pizza delivery. The lowest group picks the box color and try to convince us to embrace immense monthly payment plans. A final loud and annoying group of drooling morons scheme to call it a “human right” so politicians will subsidize free phones for the livestock on the vote farm.

The point is… I always imagine a smart fraction that really does know how this shit is done. It’s important they’re still with us. It matters to me. I want them to exist. I need them to exist.

Unfortunately, they might not. I keep looking behind the curtain. I do some odd thing that most people think is “impossible” and start realizing the good and bad of it. The good: nothing is impossible. The bad: if there’s a magic tiny fraction of geniuses… they’re not taking my calls. Are they merged in with the rest of humanity? Maybe they’re skilled in only one thing? Fuckin’ wizards at making cell phone chips, but otherwise just as clueless as anyone else? A one dimensional 185 IQ savant/dweeb that fights against Moore’s Law like a boss but can’t drive a stick shift car. A powerhouse of technology who just bought an extended warranty for their toaster.

Maybe the wise ones don’t exist! Holy shit!

The mind boggles! I feel the firmament give way. Count to ten. Breathe… OK I’m all calmed down now. I can continue…

Let’s start with the good. You can have the same experience as me. Just do something that’s “impossible”. It’s not really that hard. The world is awash with people who carry lists in their head of what cannot be done. The list is long, comprehensive, and pathetic. It serves as blinders to keep the scary outside world from intruding on their pedestrian thoughts. By their logic, if something demonstrably has been done (someone built the iPad… it wasn’t grown) but it’s not dirt simple; then the easiest way to avoid responsibility for thinking about it is to assume it can only be done by super-secret magicians from far away. That’s the root of the list of things that mere mortals can’t do.

Society keeps trying to add to the list. They’ve nearly convinced millennials that wearing pants and showing up to work is beyond their abilities. What’s next? Toilet training?

Regardless, pick something from that list. Pick something that’s hard. Then do it.

It feels good to do things. It also pokes holes in that “super-secret magicians” idea. An example; years ago I was making biodiesel. The chemistry isn’t that hard so I just did it. I bought a book and figured it out. I was careful. I learned. In time I was making an excellent product. In case you’re wondering, my truck ran just fine.

Instead of impressed, acquaintances reacted with suspicion and worry. I had offended the Gods! It was as if Exxon had a direct line to the universe where they downloaded pure energy… and that’s how your vehicle is powered. A “deplorable” like me churning out the same thing with French fry grease and a machine made of plumbing fittings broke the spell. They didn’t like it. They resented it.

But that never stopped me from believing that the smart people are out there. If I only had the right contacts. If I only knew the right people. I’d make a call, offer up a bottle of scotch, and listen carefully. I’d learn. I’d gain valuable knowledge. I’d avoid re-inventing the wheel. I wouldn’t have to muddle through. I just needed to make contact with those smart fellas.

Nope.

Recently I was trying to build a thing. What “thing” is beyond the point. The point is that many have gone before me. Humanity knows how to do this particular thing. They know the pros and cons of this widget versus that snerkdoodle. They know how many foot pounds to torque the frabnabulator.

But there’s nobody to communicate it to me. Like the matrix, I’ll just have to see it for myself. No shortcuts allowed. Humbly beseeching the wisdom of the greats does nothing if the greats ‘aint organized enough to talk it out. I could find a thousand references on the internet to one or another detail of my “thing of interest”. But no cohesive whole. No unified theory. Just a lot of fools like me… most of them with bigger budgets. Some buying this part, some buying that. Some making careful measurements of the results, others hoping it was good enough.

Q: “Did you stress test the load bearing whammerflacks?”

A: “It’s still standing.”

It’s an answer but it isn’t. If you want to design for a 5287 Newton-Gauss of whammerflack load it’s damn near useless. It’s just another story about whammerflacks. It hints at the universal whammerflack strength coefficient but tells you they don’t know the coefficient either.

Another cherished notion fades. I already knew the only way the idiots on Gilligan’s Island were going to get home was if they listened to the Professor. Now I know the Professor wasn’t 100% sure how the coconut radio worked. He made it, it filled the plot device, but anyone else who wants their own radio is going to have to get there on their own. The Professor ‘aint going to give a TED talk about the coconut radio that explains it all… because he’s not truly certain himself.

Fuck! We’re never getting off this island!

I gave up on finding a grizzled expert to help guide my project. I’d called several people with experience in the matter. All came up with some sort of excuse. “I’m pretty snofty on the jimmerjams but you’re asking about whammerflaks and I haven’t used them before.” They mostly offered helpful but not helpful breadcrumbs about their own path. “If you desire to go for jimmerjams, try installing the Excelsior X0293 with the optional tailfins. I love mine.”

I gave up. I’ll “wing it”. I ordered some random shit from the internet. It’ll work. Or it won’t. Most likely there will be mixed results. It’ll be a disaster when north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I’ll know a hawk from a handsaw and the fucker will run beautifully.

I wonder if my toddler thought the same thing when he asked me about whatever thing he was going to do. Was that his first step in the path I’m following right now? “Fuck him, he’s got no clue. I’ll just stick this thing in my mouth and see if it’s food.” How is that different from me right now? “Fuck it, I’ll order a part on Amazon and hope the thread pitch matches.”

As I age, I grudgingly accept we are all toddlers.

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