We've got a new guy at the factory—Xiao Chen. He's here to learn sampling. First day, I told him: "Sampling takes a month to get started, and three years to actually know what you're doing."
He doesn't talk much, but his eyes follow my hands everywhere. When I adjust the machine, he's watching. When I match colors, he leans in. When I write in my notebook, he leans in closer. He didn't touch a pen for the first three days. Just watched. On the third day, he said: "Zheng Shifu, can I look at your notebook?"
I handed it to him. He flipped through two pages, didn't say anything. Flipped a few more, still quiet. Then he stopped at something from last week and said: "This color code—isn't this the same as the one on the previous page? Just a different blend ratio?" I paused. He was right. Same color code, different percentage of cotton blended in. The shade comes out different. No one told him that. He spotted it himself.
I said: "Your eyes are decent."
He smiled and handed the notebook back: "Zheng Shifu, teach me how to adjust the machine."
I said: "Get the colors right first. Machines are easy. When you can see color correctly, everything else follows."
He nodded.
The next day I gave him two color swatches and told him to sit with them. He sat at his station for over an hour, head down, not looking up once. Old Zhang came by and asked: "Old Zheng, what's Xiao Chen doing over there?" I said: "Looking at colors."
Old Zhang glanced over, didn't say anything, walked off. Came back a few minutes later and murmured: "This kid's got something." I said: "Yeah, I think so too." Old Zhang said: "Don't tell him that. Let him work steady." I said: "I know."