How to Lockpick

I tried to teach my dad how to pick a lock once. He was curious about it; he thought it was a lost art, like knitting, and figured that if anyone could learn how to do it, he could.

So I gave him a lock, gave him a pick (a snake pick to be exact), and gave him these instructions:

1. You have no eyes inside the lock. It must be done with feeling.

2. If you get too tense, you will never open it.

3. The art of picking a lock is best learned with familiarity, and with watching others.

My dad nodded, pretending to listen.

"Now you listen here, young man, " I wanted  to say, "I've already been there. I know what you're going to do; you're gonna force it to open. That's how you handle everything." But I held my tongue.

And he went to work. He tried and tried and tried. After four hours, he looked at me with a pained expression, as if the lock had slapped him.

"What am I doing wrong?"

I took the lock in my hands. It was warm to the touch--too warm. I slid the pick in to feel the pins, and they complained with every movement, aching from the abuse they had just gone through.

"You didn't listen." I said, and proceeded to open the lock so he could see. "I'm disappointed in you."

My dad's strength had finally failed him.

I too had learned the hard way. With tears in my eyes, I asked why. Why wasn't this working? I tried my best and learned all I could, so why was this happening?

And then, when my mind was focused on the voices in the other room, when my guard was down, something clicked. The lock opened as easily as if I was using a key. I stared at the lock, trying to comprehend what just happened. After that moment, I tried it again and again with success. I've been opening locks ever since.