Many of my customers have seen me slide my hand into my front shirt pocket to dig around for one of the lock picks I always keep in there. Picking locks is an essential part of my job. I sometimes run into longtime locksmiths who say they aren’t that good at it and don’t even practice the skill. I know other guys who think locksmiths without this skill shouldn’t even consider themselves locksmiths. I learned the trade among a group of practitioners who crafted custom picks by hand to fit their needs and who were constantly working to sharpen their skills.

I’m a middling picker of locks, perhaps even a poor one. I’ve only been at this for about three years. Sometimes I worry that I’m lacking in certain gifts that facilitate the practice–that my senses aren’t as sharp as some other guys’, so I don’t detect as much of the feedback that the lock is giving off as the bits move around inside. My saving grace is that I practice and work hard to get better at it, and I focus these efforts on the most common locks around. As a result, when I show up to a domestic lockout, there’s a very strong chance that I can pick the lock in question. If I can’t, there are other ways of solving the problem (which I don’t like to talk about).

The other day I went to help a family gain access to their home after the lock on their front door failed. I did a quick spin around the outside of the house, trying to find the quickest way in. I spotted several potentially easy points of entry. The last door I found had two locks that I thought would be very simple to pick. I chose this entry point, even though there were other doors with just one lock, and windows that looked like they might be open. I fished out my picks, crouched down, and got to work. I started with the doorknob. I made it look like movie lock picking: pop, pop, click, pop, spin, and open. And then on to the deadbolt. This one put up a fight. I worked at it for a few minutes—so long, in fact, that one of the two guys who were watching me said that one of the other doors would likely be easier to pick because it was more often used. I’m a little sensitive about my picking skills. And this was the second time that day that someone made what I considered to be an unhelpful suggestion about my picking. Earlier, when I was working on the door of a Seattle condo, a neighbor passing me in the hall cheerily said, “You’re doing it the hard way. You should just bump it!” I bristle at being told how to do my job.

Maybe that explains my irritated response to this second comment. Without turning my head to look at him, I said, “Pick a lot of locks, do you?” Then I winced at my own bad manners. That’s not the way to talk to a customer. But now it was on. The customers had become impatient, and I had dug in my heels. In truth, I had just been thinking about trying one of those other doors, but now my pride was in the mix. In order to vindicate myself and justify my prickliness, I now HAD to open this one, and quickly. My brow started to sweat a little. This was not good. Imagine getting your blood drawn by a phlebotomist on her very first day. You should probably try not to tweak her nerves right before she sticks that needle in your arm. In the same way, it’s unwise to question the judgment or undermine the confidence of a locksmith who you’re depending upon to pick his way into your house.

My focus started to slip. I became increasingly aware of the two customers looming behind me. I started thinking about the clock. Where was I? Five minutes? Six minutes? This was frustrating. I got clumsy and dropped my tension tool. As I fumbled with it the customer asked again about trying the other door. I spun my head around and looked at him. Right behind him was an empty koi pond. I pictured myself standing up, walking over to him, pulling his shirt up over his head, and pushing him into it. I wondered if the irritation was showing on my face. My response was polite. “This kind of lock is usually easier for me than that other one. Let me keep trying here for a couple more minutes.” I turned back to the lock, lifted one pin into position, and felt the plug turn freely. I was in. I let my shoulders slump as a wave of relief washed over me. I looked at my phone for the time. It had taken me eight minutes to open both locks. That’s not good but it’s not terrible. Then I gathered up my tools and pushed the door open.