Cobbler: (n) a person who mends shoes as a job
Some jobs by their nature are just flat-out annoying.
Honestly, I’d rather be a garbage collector than a politician. A politician has to interrupt the lives of people to get a vote–never thoroughly making them glad for the intrusion.
On the other hand, a garbage man arrives at your house and hauls away your stinky-poo without irritating the hell out of you.
That’s why I would like to be a cobbler. (I’m not actually thinking of changing employment–just aware that the occupation would certainly offer skill to produce blessing.)
I don’t think I would like to be a haberdasher–because even though you may make a beautiful hat for someone, once they put it on their head, unless they pass by a mirror, they soon forget the nobility of your efforts.
But a cobbler takes a pair of shoes that you really like–so much that you want to get them fixed instead of giving them away to Goodwill–and then restores them to a state of newness. You put them on your feet and they feel so good. You look down and you admire them, and you’re so proud of your choice to repair instead of repel.
So every time you see your cobbler, you say, “Thank you so much, and my toes add a double-amen.”
You may not even recognize your haberdasher–the cat who made the hat.
Your sight of your politician may generate a scowl on your face, which you are unable to remove until the next time you view ice cream.
But your garbage man…
Well, you would invite him over for lunch, to meet your cobbler.