Get Your Stinkin' Hands Off My Stapler
Sometimes I feel like Milton from “Office Space.” For some reason, it really irritates me when people borrow my stapler.
I went and found my stapler in the office supply room the week I got here, four years ago. It is a really great stapler. A Stanley Bostitch stapler. It never clogs up, it’s got a good grip, and it’s not too light. It has sat happily on my little desk since then, stapling a few pieces of paper per week. It hasn’t been asked to work too hard, so it’s been content.
About a year ago, I got a new coworker. From some reason, she never trucked her butt up to the office supply room to get herself a stapler. Instead, she has decided that she likes mine. Suddenly, when I needed to staple something, I found myself searching my area for my stapler. For awhile it just moved to our group’s work area several times a week. Then it began showing up on her desk. Every time the thievery occured, I picked it up, and moved it back to my desk, in it’s little stapler spot, where it seems happiest. I know it’s just a stapler, but it’s my stapler. Finally, I hid it behind my computer screen.
Recently, she wandered over, searching our work area for my beloved stapler. “Where’s the stapler?” she asked, poking around around on our work table. “Well, my stapler is over on my desk.” I said, and handed it to her to use. She gave me a funny look. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was your stapler.” She stapled something and looked at my stapler. “It’s the best one in the building, you know,” she said, handing it back to me. I just smiled sweetly and put it back in it’s hiding space.
She still hasn’t gone to the supply room and gotten herself a stapler. Ever since, she comes over to my desk and says, “Can I borrow your stapler?” and maybe I’m crazy, but I always hear a small sarcastic tone on the word “your.” She also always mentions it being the best stapler in the building and strokes it longingly. She also seems to staple her papers with a little more ferocity than before.
If something dreadful ever happened to me, I seriously think she would swipe it from my desk on the way to the funeral.
I went and found my stapler in the office supply room the week I got here, four years ago. It is a really great stapler. A Stanley Bostitch stapler. It never clogs up, it’s got a good grip, and it’s not too light. It has sat happily on my little desk since then, stapling a few pieces of paper per week. It hasn’t been asked to work too hard, so it’s been content.
About a year ago, I got a new coworker. From some reason, she never trucked her butt up to the office supply room to get herself a stapler. Instead, she has decided that she likes mine. Suddenly, when I needed to staple something, I found myself searching my area for my stapler. For awhile it just moved to our group’s work area several times a week. Then it began showing up on her desk. Every time the thievery occured, I picked it up, and moved it back to my desk, in it’s little stapler spot, where it seems happiest. I know it’s just a stapler, but it’s my stapler. Finally, I hid it behind my computer screen.
Recently, she wandered over, searching our work area for my beloved stapler. “Where’s the stapler?” she asked, poking around around on our work table. “Well, my stapler is over on my desk.” I said, and handed it to her to use. She gave me a funny look. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was your stapler.” She stapled something and looked at my stapler. “It’s the best one in the building, you know,” she said, handing it back to me. I just smiled sweetly and put it back in it’s hiding space.
She still hasn’t gone to the supply room and gotten herself a stapler. Ever since, she comes over to my desk and says, “Can I borrow your stapler?” and maybe I’m crazy, but I always hear a small sarcastic tone on the word “your.” She also always mentions it being the best stapler in the building and strokes it longingly. She also seems to staple her papers with a little more ferocity than before.
If something dreadful ever happened to me, I seriously think she would swipe it from my desk on the way to the funeral.
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