9 years ago
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
This Is Blog-worthy
You could call me loyal.
Two, maybe three, years ago, I starting using a specific mechanical pencil at work. I grew attached to this pencil, even to the point of using it for a year after it broke. It was the perfect pencil.
I endured much persecution for my decision to continue using it despite its condition.
You've probably heard the story.
By the time we had money in our budget that we could use for pencils, the pencils were no longer made. I faced the daunting task of picking out a new pencil. It proved to be too challenging, both intellectually and emotionally, and I finally told KB that she'd just have to order something for me.
She agonized over the decision. What if I didn't like the pencils? What if my work quality declined because she ordered less-than-acceptible pencils? Would it change the way I looked at her? Would it change my entire personality?
No one knew.
The moment arrived when the new pencils were brought to me. The birds stopped chirping; the wind ceased its blowing; all was quiet; all was still.
Verdict?
I liked the pencils.
And now...
You could call me loyal.
I taped my name to my pencil. KB ordered reserves. Considering how long I use the same pencil, I now have approximately 10 years worth of pencils sitting in my drawer.
There are times when a pen is more appropriate than a pencil. What to do??
You could call me loyal.
There is a specific type of pen that I like. I have a few of them in different colors, but I have a favorite among them. I taped my name to my pen. I had one on reserve, but its ink was low and it just sat in my drawer.
Enter Nancy.
Nancy is my new work-neighbor. She's fantastic.
Two days ago, Nancy was in my office and needed to sign something. So I let her borrow my pen. The pen.
She commented on the pen, "Oh, this is nice."
What did I do?
I took my pen back from her, of course.
But then I opened my drawer, took out my spare, and gave it to her. I also gave her my spare ink.
I must like Nancy.
And I do still have the broken pencil in my drawer. Just in case.
Two, maybe three, years ago, I starting using a specific mechanical pencil at work. I grew attached to this pencil, even to the point of using it for a year after it broke. It was the perfect pencil.
I endured much persecution for my decision to continue using it despite its condition.
You've probably heard the story.
By the time we had money in our budget that we could use for pencils, the pencils were no longer made. I faced the daunting task of picking out a new pencil. It proved to be too challenging, both intellectually and emotionally, and I finally told KB that she'd just have to order something for me.
She agonized over the decision. What if I didn't like the pencils? What if my work quality declined because she ordered less-than-acceptible pencils? Would it change the way I looked at her? Would it change my entire personality?
No one knew.
The moment arrived when the new pencils were brought to me. The birds stopped chirping; the wind ceased its blowing; all was quiet; all was still.
Verdict?
I liked the pencils.
And now...
You could call me loyal.
I taped my name to my pencil. KB ordered reserves. Considering how long I use the same pencil, I now have approximately 10 years worth of pencils sitting in my drawer.
There are times when a pen is more appropriate than a pencil. What to do??
You could call me loyal.
There is a specific type of pen that I like. I have a few of them in different colors, but I have a favorite among them. I taped my name to my pen. I had one on reserve, but its ink was low and it just sat in my drawer.
Enter Nancy.
Nancy is my new work-neighbor. She's fantastic.
Two days ago, Nancy was in my office and needed to sign something. So I let her borrow my pen. The pen.
She commented on the pen, "Oh, this is nice."
What did I do?
I took my pen back from her, of course.
But then I opened my drawer, took out my spare, and gave it to her. I also gave her my spare ink.
I must like Nancy.
And I do still have the broken pencil in my drawer. Just in case.
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