In a land far away, there were two brothers, two plumbers. To preserve their anonymity, we'll call them... Mario and Luigi. Their mother, a kind and friendly woman, and their father, a man with (by the laws of averages and genetics) a truly gargantuan moustache, raised them both to be kind and friendly (and moustachioed) in their turn. There was enough work in the town to keep both the plumbers busy, and they each grew through apprentice to journeyman to experience and everyone liked them. They both cared about the job, about their clients, and they each did good work, always going the extra mile, doing more than was necessarily asked for, putting in an extra hour to tighten that pipe or fit a better S-bend or clean up the poor workmanship of lesser craftsmen and cowboys. They were happy. Even their rivalry for each job was good-humoured, a friendly source of amusement to them and to the town. Sometimes people would flip a coin to choose which to ring, having no way to choose between them, and Mario would laugh and suggest that he should have two-headed coins made, or Luigi would laugh and say that that ought to make it his turn next.
But there came a time of downturn, when the people of the town had to hold tighter to their purses, and fewer called out for plumbers. And Luigi, after much thought, decided to take a job with Bowser's, the big plumbing conglomerate from the city. He was worried: the big company were often slapdash or inexperienced in their work, and discourteous or evasive to their clients, and more interested in bottom lines than hot water lines. But they paid extremely well, and they had the latest tools, and there was security in having a contract and a title and a boss. Besides, Bowser's worked for so many more people that Luigi's own skills could only help that many more. Maybe he could even teach them something about quality, and craftsmanship, and care. He suggested to Mario that they both joined, and Mario thought hard about it, and eventually decided not to, though it was a close-run thing. Both the brothers shook hands on it, respecting one another's decision, although in the silence of their hearts each was a little disappointed in the other.
Luigi did well at Bowser's. He was right about the latest tools, and about the pay, and about the security. And he was partially right about teaching the big company something about quality. His work was often better than his colleagues, sometimes through expertise but most often because he tried harder: he loved the work, and wanted to do well, and was kind and friendly when he could be. But sometimes, try though he might, the time wasn't there, or the parts weren't in the van, and these things were not his fault; someone else at the big company had cut corners on their job and that forced Luigi to cut corners on his and make people sad and angry, or put in more time to fix it than he would have spent doing it all correctly himself in the first place. He pushed hard inside the company to fix these things, and he had some successes; a policy was written suggesting that employees work harder to improve customer happiness, and many customers across the land were made a little happier as a result. Luigi won an award. He trained some apprentices, and many of his little ways of making people happier and the job better were adopted into the company training scheme. One time he went home after another argument with his boss about the things that were not adopted, and that night he looked enviously out of their window at his brother's house across the street, thinking that it would be a fine thing to not have a boss who stopped you from doing things right.
Mario did well working for himself. The time of downturn ended and things began to pick up again, maybe not quite to where they had been but nearly there for all that, and the phone calls and messages came in once more. Everyone was pleased to see him, and although he maybe took a little longer than the men from the big company, his work was never slapdash, always taking the time to do it right. And he had less money, but he really didn't mind, or begrudge it; he had enough to get by, and he loved the work, and wanted to do well, and was kind and friendly. He did envy his brother's toolbox, though, all the latest gear while Mario himself made do with things a little older, a little rustier, but they were all good quality tools that he understood, and the work was as good and better. In November one year a very expensive plumber's inspection camera was stolen from his brother's van, and Mario thought that it would have been great to have such a thing and maybe he would have taken better care, and then he felt guilty about thinking that of his brother. He felt guiltier still when on Christmas morning he opened the box from Luigi to find an expensive inspection camera in it. But then his brother winked at him and put a finger to his lips, and all was well between them again. One time Mario was up to his waist in the drain outside a house, raindrops rattling on his hat and cursing the god who invented backflow, when he saw his brother drive past all unknowing in his modern van, windows wound up and singing along with the radio, and he looked enviously after the van's lights in the storm, thinking that it would be a fine thing to have just a notch more comfort and influence and two fewer wet knees.