4 Lessons My Dad Unintentionally Taught Me with a Stomp Shear

The work was boring and repetitive, and I hated it. The carrot Dad dangled in front of me was that he would match whatever money I earned toward a car when I turned 16. I look back on those events almost 40 years ago with great fondness because of the lessons I learned. I didn’t know it, but that stomp shear would teach me some valuable lessons when I least expected them and could have cared less about learning. Here are a few that I hope you enjoy. 

Lead by Example 

Dad’s first shop was behind our house. He had been in business for a few years, and I would watch him and his crews working from my bedroom window. I’ll never forget all the times I heard him get up early and start work before everyone else arrived.  

Before I started the first day, Dad took the time to go over basic safety and show me all the components of the shear when the guys weren’t around. He wouldn’t let me use it until he showed me how it was done and I proved I could do it alone. There was a lot of “do this and don’t do that” as he walked me through each step.  

I was learning as I watched Dad share his knowledge with me. He wasn’t above doing menial work, like making the drive cleats himself. He never thought it was beneath him and would never ask someone to do something he wouldn’t do.  

Dad didn’t let me off the hook because my last name was also on the trucks. Instead, he expected more of me. The older I got, the more I appreciated not being handed anything and having to prove myself.  

If you own a company and your kids work for you, don’t limit their growth by handing them everything. They will thank you later in life for the struggles they had to overcome in this business. Lead by example and help them become the best versions of themselves as possible. 

Without Boundaries, You Get Cut 

Stomp shears have an adjustable stop and rails. They are the boundaries that guide and stop the sheet metal in the right spot for a straight and consistent cut. There is also a guard that keeps your fingers from getting too close to the cutting zone. Dad’s shear had a guard bolt that would occasionally loosen on one side and fall onto the metal deck. If you paid attention and kept the bolt tight, there was nothing to worry about. However, if you ignored it, the guard could come down on your fingers if you got too close. 

These boundaries, along with leather gloves and a sheet metal jig for pushing metal up against the stop, kept me from getting cut and made my job easier when I used them correctly. However, I was hardheaded and often ignored or used these boundaries incorrectly. The results showed in my work.  

One July day, ignoring the boundaries finally caught up with me. It was hot in the shop, even with an old blower assembly circulating air across the concrete floor. I took off my leather gloves and pushed the metal by hand to cut the drive cleat blanks. With my attention focused on the heat and not my work, I forgot to check the guard bolt.  

All it took was one push of the scrap metal against the rail and a stomp for the guard to come loose. My fingers were too close, and I jerked them back as the guard dropped, only to run them across the edge of the metal. It was like running a razor blade over two of my fingers. Blood was everywhere. Thankfully, I didn’t need stitches.  

Slicing my fingers served as a tough lesson about paying attention to boundaries. But Dad also taught lessons about the need for boundaries between work and home life. These guards keep us from cutting off and shutting out important people and events in our lives. I’m grateful Dad set his own boundaries between work and home. He made sure he was there for us and rarely missed an event because of work.  

How good are your boundaries? Do you find business continually bleeding into family time that you should spend with your spouse or children? How many games or school events have you missed because work had to be done? If the answers make you uncomfortable, you probably need to reexamine and better define your boundaries. 

Play the Long Game 

As a teenager, I wanted to be out playing baseball, watching the latest summer 1980s blockbuster movie at the theater, and swimming with my friends. When I whined about missing out on these events, Dad reminded me what I was working for. No future 16-year-old wants to lose out on a car deal, so my whining quickly stopped, and I got back to work stomping out drive cleat blanks.  

By visualizing what could happen, both positive and negative, it prompted me to ignore the temporary discomfort for something I really wanted. I would have to put in the work now so I could have fun later. To overcome the drive-cleat dullness, I started getting creative with ways of doing the job. Anything to insert some fun into the work and make it a game. 

There are usually no immediate results. Instead, the repetitive stomping is what gets the results. I had to keep stomping to get the job done, even when there were other things I wanted to do. Because I made it a game and could see my future car, it made the stomping bearable and gave it purpose.  

You might find yourself complaining about your current circumstances. If so, is it because of the temporary discomfort that comes from playing the long game, or is something else going on? All of us finish one game and another soon begins that looks a little different. How will you choose to play these games? 

Sweep the Shop 

After finishing various tasks, the job wasn’t complete until I swept the shop. All drive cleats needed to be put in the proper place and the shop left in better condition than I found it. This was tough for me because my bedroom always looked like a bomb had gone off in it. I wasn’t very organized and thought sweeping the shop was a waste. After all, the shop would only get dirty again the next day.  

Of all the lessons, this is the one that was hardest to learn. I was lazy and would sweep the floor and leave the pile in the center or off to the side. Dad would come in and have me go back out to the shop to finish the job. It wasn’t complete until I put the metal scraps and dirt in the trash can. I’m grateful for his patience and persistence in sending me back to the shop repeatedly until I finally got the hint. 

This single lesson is the one I needed to learn the most — details matter. I was unknowingly being taught to focus on the small things that make the biggest difference. Sweeping the shop changed how I viewed what I did each day. It was the piece that started giving me pride in a job well done that I could see at the end of each day. I started paying attention to details I previously brushed over and didn’t care about.  

All of us have shops to sweep. Here are some ways they may show up in your daily work: 

• How you show up for work each day 

• How well you organize tools and test instruments  

• What your work trucks look like 

• How well you treat employees or coworkers 

• The condition of the parking lot, office, and shop. 

Paying attention to the details shows you care enough to finish.  

You might not have a stomp shear, but the lessons remain the same. If you don’t learn them, life is a lot tougher, and you’ll never reach your goals in this or any business. Many of you have dads who led by example and taught you some great lessons. If you’re fortunate enough to still have your dad with you, take a minute and thank him.