Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Worst office product ever!

The award would have to go to my red Swingline stapler. She had been a loyal friend to me for some time. She didn't bind as much as the Boston stapler. She was always there when I needed her. Very consistent.

One day, I inserted a new set of staples into her, and all of a sudden, she decided not to work. I thought these things were standard, but I guess they're not. They really should make standard staples. Why would anyone want to stock different staples for different staplers?

Anyway, the staples I used wouldn't work on her. I would have to open her up, slide the staples forward and then bang down on her. If I'm doing a lot of stapling, I repeat this action and each time, I get more and more pissed.

I wonder if she wanted more attention from me. More handholding. I dunno, whatever. I don't need a needy stapler. I've got more pressing concerns quite frankly, like the 3-hole punch, but don't get me started.

Then a colleague of mine asked to use my stapler. I warned him about how she acts up. How she's difficult. He chuckles at me as he took hold of her, adjusts the staples one last time, and then swiftly and firmly banged the top of her head.

He continued away stapling with efficiency and I stared at him in wonder. I glared at her for betraying me. How could she work with ease in his hand and not in mine? Have I not been loyal? Having broken her of her obstinate ways, he left me with her to do our daily deeds.

Today, I noticed I've run out of staples again, and I wonder if she will regress into her once needy obstinate ways. I honestly don't know. But I do know that I will never get rid of her. I will never let anyone take her away from me. We've gone through thick and thin, she and I.

(The origin story of Milton and his red stapler.)

Punchlines
Props are well and good, but at some point the watermelon sledging and the rummaging through an old chest don't exactly constitute magic nor entertainment.

Certainly not. No, for that, you can't beat...
...rummaging through a young chest. (over 18 of course)

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