Why Lumber Enthusiasts Fear Change

Have you ever wondered why some folks in the construction world cling to lumber like it's the last slice of pizza at a party? Well, let me tell you, it’s not because they have a deep, spiritual connection with trees or because they love getting splinters. No, the real reason is far more complex and involves a phenomenon known as “Change-ophobia”.

You see, building with lumber is a time-honored tradition. Our ancestors did it, their ancestors did it, and even the ancestors of their ancestors probably did it. Back in the day, if you didn't build with wood, you were likely considered a witch or, worse, someone who used metric measurements. The thought of using anything else sends shivers down their spine, much like the prospect of having to read the instructions on a piece of IKEA furniture.

There’s a certain romanticism to wood. Imagine if you will: a burly carpenter, muscles rippling, as he wields his hammer like Thor with a caffeine addiction, shaping mighty oaks into the framework of a home. Now, replace that image with a guy in a hard hat, effortlessly clicking together prefabricated steel frames. Doesn’t quite have the same heroic ring to it, does it?

Lumber lovers will tell you that wood is "natural" and "sustainable," forgetting, of course, that cold-formed steel is also recyclable and doesn’t double as termite kibble. Mention cold-formed steel to them, and they look at you like you’ve just suggested they start building with cheese.

Then there's the nostalgia factor. Wood has been around forever, like duct tape and bad reality TV shows. It's ingrained in our culture, from the Lincoln Logs we played with as kids to the countless times we’ve cursed at a stubborn piece of plywood that just wouldn’t fit. Building with wood is like listening to vinyl records or insisting on using a rotary phone—it’s old-school cool.

But let’s be honest: wood has its drawbacks. It warps, it rots, it attracts termites like a picnic attracts ants. Yet, suggesting an alternative is akin to suggesting that grandma switch from her ancient recipe to a microwave meal. The response is usually a mix of horror and suspicion, followed by a passionate lecture on “the good old days.”

So, next time you meet a lumber enthusiast, just nod sympathetically and maybe slip them a brochure on cold-formed steel. Who knows? With a bit of humor and a lot of patience, we might just help them see that sometimes, change is a good thing. Or, at the very least, that steel doesn’t come with splinters.