The Faust Baseline™Purchasing Page – Intelligent People Assume Nothing
micvicfaust@intelligent-people.org
I was raised around people who cared how a thing was made.
Not because anyone was watching.
Not because there was a bonus for it.
But because turning out sloppy work was something you carried with you.
You didn’t need a meeting about it.
You didn’t need a policy.
You just knew when a job was done right—and when it wasn’t.
That kind of pride didn’t come from perfection.
It came from care.
Care for the work.
Care for the people who would rely on it.
Care for your own name being attached to it.
Somewhere along the way, we started pretending that speed was the same thing as progress. That “good enough” was a reasonable substitute for “done right.” And that if something mostly worked, we could fix the rest later.
That mindset leaks.
It always does.
You see it in tools that don’t quite line up.
In instructions that leave too much unsaid.
In systems that work fine—right up until the moment they don’t.
The Baseline was built in direct opposition to that way of thinking.
Not because it’s old-fashioned.
Because precision still matters when the stakes are real.
I didn’t want something that felt clever.
I wanted something that felt square, true, and reliable—the way a good level feels in your hand. The kind you don’t have to double-check because you already trust it.
That’s why the Baseline is slow where it needs to be slow.
And firm where it needs to be firm.
It doesn’t rush conclusions.
It doesn’t smooth over rough edges to make itself easier to accept.
It doesn’t adjust its standards based on who’s asking or how often they ask.
That’s not stubbornness.
That’s workmanship.
Anyone who has ever taken pride in their work understands this instinctively.
When you build something right the first time, it lasts. When you cut corners, you spend the rest of your time compensating for what you skipped. The cost doesn’t disappear—it just shows up later, usually at the worst moment.
The Baseline is built to avoid that debt.
Every line, every boundary, every refusal is there because removing it would weaken the whole. Not emotionally. Structurally. You can’t fake integrity any more than you can fake a load-bearing beam.
This is where quality becomes personal.
Because when you use something built with care, it changes how you stand.
You don’t have to second-guess it.
You don’t have to keep checking whether it’s still holding.
You can focus on the decision in front of you instead of worrying about whether the tool underneath you is going to slip.
That’s the benefit most people miss.
The Baseline doesn’t make decisions for you.
It clears the ground so you can make them cleanly.
It does that by refusing to blur lines that matter.
Precision isn’t about being picky.
It’s about knowing where the edges are.
Pride of work isn’t about showing off.
It’s about sleeping at night knowing you didn’t cheat the process.
Those habits used to be normal. They were taught early, reinforced quietly, and respected widely. You didn’t need to explain why they mattered—you saw the difference every day.
The Baseline carries those habits forward on purpose.
Not as nostalgia.
As discipline.
It assumes that the person using it wants to do the job right—even when it would be easier not to. It respects the user enough not to flatten everything into convenience.
And that respect goes both ways.
If you care about quality, the Baseline will feel familiar.
If you care about precision, it will feel steady.
If you take pride in how you think and decide, it will feel like something that belongs in your hands.
This isn’t about being better than anyone else.
It’s about refusing to lower standards just because the world got louder and sloppier.
Good work still matters.
Clear lines still matter.
Tools you can trust still matter.
The Baseline was built for people who know that—and who want something made with enough care that it can carry weight without apology.
That’s not a trend.
That’s a craft.
And craft, when it’s done right, always finds its people.
Unauthorized commercial use prohibited.
© 2026 The Faust Baseline LLC
