The Pen is Mightier than the Sword


My local farmers market reserves spaces for local craft vendors each week. On a recent visit I came across a booth from a local woodworkers club.  They had a large selections of pens made from bullet casings. Not only were they functional, but beautiful art work as well. Immediately, I imagined one of these pens on my desk at the office.

I have a bit of a reputation at work. It’s where Underboob shows herself the most. Left to my own devices my personality leans toward the introverted. Days, no weeks, could be spent in solitude quietly plugging away at my tasks. Unfortunately, I am often asked to collaborate with upper management. They like to discuss and brainstorm and do many other things that include lots of buzzwords and never really result in action.

Now, I am a list maker. I have lists for everything. My lists have lists. I constantly create outlines and flow charts in my head . There is nothing more satisfying than to cross off the final item on a list and dispose of it. Well, maybe chocolate but you get the point. Make the list, organize, prioritize, and plow through it. That’s how I like to work.

I’m also socially awkward and deficient in the filter between my brain and my mouth. You know those uncharitably and often inappropriate thoughts we all have? My mouth tends to blurt them out long before I have a chance to censor the thought. And I have little patience for dithering over nuances when we could just solve the problem and thus cross it off our list. I don’t like meetings and I don’t like working with a team.

As a result, it’s me that HR comes to at 9 AM on a Tuesday and asks to help them hide a body (it was hyperbole, I swear!). I’ve often reminded people (VP’s) when they are impeding any actual progress with their egos how I work with pathogens. Not that I would actually kill anyone, but my morality is flexible enough to inflict them with a nasty gastrointestinal ailment. Men just don’t watch their drinks. Really, I would love to experience the privilege for one day the confidence of a mediocre white male in a position of authority. What is that like?

Back to those really cool bullet pens. They were lovely. At first glance simply looked like any other executive pen. It would have been a welcome addition to any desk. I picked one up and it felt nice in hand, well balanced with a comfortable grip. Over time I imagine the combination of wood and metal with the oils in your skin would create an exquisite patina. Then I imagined what my coworkers would think. Those pompous, overconfident, self-assured executives trapped in a conference room for an hour watching me take notes with a 50 caliber shell casing. It’s almost as good as shrinking them down with radioactive nipple lasers. Almost.

The pen is indeed mightier than the sword. Not only do words have more power, the written word is eternal. Just think of how much more fun it would be to create those immortal words with a universally recognized symbol of violence. I just love the concept. I regret that I didn’t buy one. I’ll have to remedy that.

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