Installing Things in Four Countries: Order, Trust, and Systems in Everyday Life

🇹🇭 Thailand: Order with Finesse Beneath a Rough Surface

In the course of renovating in Thailand, my strongest impression was that this country is "fine beneath the rough."

On the surface, everything is very casual: workers in flip-flops, laughing as they work, not all that punctual.

But when it really comes to the boundaries of responsibility, their meticulousness is surprising.

That day I wanted to put up a TV mount. I had bought the bracket myself on Shopee and thought it would be fine.

When the installer arrived, though, he told me, "This can't be used." He didn't speak English, and I don't speak Thai.

So I opened an AI translator, and only then understood that he was worried that installing the bracket could mean drilling into the wiring inside the wall.

He gave me two options: "Either rebook, and wait until you have a suitable bracket ready; or use the model I supply."

To be honest, my first reaction was suspicion: was he trying to sell me something? It is an almost universal consumer defense reflex.

Only after calling a Thai friend to check did I learn that this is common practice in Thailand. In the time it took to make the call, the building's electrician also appeared and began guiding the installer on how to avoid the wiring in the wall. Every apartment building has an electrician who knows the wiring in the walls; they know the direction of every wall and every wire.

This is their order of "fine beneath the rough": seemingly casual, but every step actually takes place within a clear scope of responsibility.

🇨🇳 China: Freedom to Renovate and Order by Design

When installing a drying rack on the balcony, I learned another lesson. It was a folding rack: space-saving, neat, and practical.

I made a point of asking the building's electrician to look at the position. He told me, "There's wiring on the balcony too. Some people put a washing machine there, or install lights,

so if you're going to drill, here, and here, you can't."

Without his reminder, I might very well have drilled into a wire without realizing it, even given myself an electric shock.

This reminded me of my experience in China. In China, this sort of thing is actually very casual. If the home is yours, you can change it however you like.

Many people renovate, drill holes, and reroute wiring; some have even mistakenly drilled into load-bearing walls.

This freedom reflects lax control by property management on the one hand, but on the other it shows that China's basic design has long since taken "human waywardness" into account.

China's design for plumbing and electrical conduits is very forward-looking. When I bought and renovated my own home, I rerouted the water lines and wiring. I know that the depth at which things are laid early on, and the layering and spacing of the wiring, actually determine the comfort and safety of life later.

In such a system, residents' freedom is a freedom that has been "anticipated." The depth and direction of the pipes, the thickness of the protective layer:

these invisible details form an engineer's kind of order. It lets people "do as they please" with peace of mind, and still be safe.

It is a "structural tolerance" peculiar to China.

🇺🇸 The United States: Professional Specialization and Market Order

In the United States I never lived in an apartment, so I don't know much about how apartment management works. For the detached houses most people live in, installations, repairs, and the like are almost always handled by licensed companies or individuals.

Of course there are Americans who love DIY, but compared with Canada there aren't that many. Because in the United States, the division of labour in the service industry is very fine.

Every kind of trade can be found on the market: electricians, plumbers, roof repairers, window sealers. Almost every detail has someone doing it, and the service is efficient and reasonably priced. Behind this lies America's huge population base and the steady inflow of new immigrants. They keep the economy lively and sustain this highly specialized service market.

This convenience is built on an enormous labour market. But the other side of it is the limitation that comes with "over-specialization."

I have a friend living in California whose skylight always leaked in the rainy season. He hired a waterproofing company to do the work, but it still leaked every heavy rain. Only later did he discover that the company almost never dealt with this kind of problem, because it rains so little in California.

This is one feature of American-style professionalism: it is precise and efficient, but it also depends on how often the need arises. When a problem isn't "common" enough, it is hard for the system to fold it into a stable solution.

🇨🇦 Canada: The Boundaries of Regulation and Trust

In Canada I lived in an apartment, and I also have friends who live in detached houses. Here the service industry isn't as developed as in the United States: tradespeople are few, prices are high, and almost anything involving water or electricity has to be done by a licensed professional. Even if you just want to add a three-way valve to an existing pipe, you must have a registered plumber do it.

At first I didn't pay much attention. In China I had installed a smart toilet myself and rerouted pipes, so I knew all this well. So, out of habit, I installed a smart toilet seat in my Canadian apartment, bought all the parts and tools, and had it done in no time, perfectly. The building management said at the time that it was "no problem." Until later, when the original owner of the apartment wanted to sell and a new owner took over. During the home inspection, they found the extra three-way valve and asked for an "inspection report from a qualified plumber."

Here, the premise of "doing your own work" is that institutional trust can be traced back. Because whenever transactions and liability are involved, every non-professional action is required to have documentation behind it. In the end, a plumber was brought in, inspected it, and confirmed that the installation complied with the rules, and only then was the matter safely settled.

Canada's freedom has boundaries: ordinarily you can do things yourself, and as long as you don't start a fire, cause a flood, or violate city bylaws,

no one interferes. But when a property enters the market and its value begins to be measured, everything is traced back: whether the materials are environmentally friendly, whether the installation was professional, even whether the position of the screws can be matched in a report.

It is an institutionalized "deferred trust": giving you space in daily life, demanding proof when it comes to liability. Here freedom and regulation are not opposites but an order in which each checks the other.

Living in different countries, doing the same things,

whether mounting a TV, repairing a vacuum cleaner, or drilling a wall to hang a rack,

every experience makes one understand the word "system" anew.

Different countries have different ways of handling things, different norms and rhythms.

Behind them lies an accumulation of history, culture, law, and habit,

the "default logic" we live inside, yet rarely stop to think about.