. . . and other dangerous things.

by Cynthia on June 12, 2019

Today, my stapler tried to kill me—twice.

It wasn’t just an ordinary stapler. This stapler was my friend, Red Swingline. And I had no idea she was pissed off—until it was too late.

I was trying to get billing ready, which requires Red’s assistance.
After all, it’s what I got her for.
Besides, if the billing doesn’t go out, no one knows what to pay, so they don’t pay anything, and none of us have a job.
So, all of us—the printer, the paper, the stapler, and me—work together to get the billing out.
You hear me, Red?
We work TOGETHER.

What I didn’t know, was that the person who does our purchasing had tried to save money on staples of all things.
And Red the stapler wasn’t happy about it.
The new staples were slippery and thinner than the staples Red was expecting.
Who knew?
I DIDN’T!

By the time I opened the new box of staples, the old ones were gone. I had nothing to compare them to.
I slid the new row of staples in place, closed the top, positioned the paper, and pushed.
Nothing happened.
I pushed again.

Wait. What? No holes in the paper, no tiny metal line holding the pages together.
What the heck?
I tried one more time.
Nothing but an imprint where the staple should be.
She was refusing to use the new staples.

I opened the top and Red broke that row of staples into tiny groups of staples and spit them right in my face. It’s a good thing I had glasses on.

I said something that started with the letter F.
I think it was “Forget this!” or something like that.

About that time, Red slammed the top down right on my hand. I opened it. She slammed it again. And again. And again. Until I was forced to say “Forget this” again.

That’s when I thought of the supply cabinet. There, I found six more boxes of staples. The same cheap staples that Red was rejecting.

I opened a new box and tried a row. I mean, maybe the first box was bad.

But, guess what?
The same thing happened. Only this time, the staples exploded out of Red.

They flew at my face and all over the room.

Where was her love, her loyalty?

I threw the cheap staples in the supply cabinet and went online to look for another “Forgetting” stapler.

I put Red in a closet where no one will ever see her again, despite her brilliant fiery color.

I do not need a stapler in my life that lacks loyalty.

No one does!

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