Pen Thief

11 Mar

pen_1Stolen is such a strong word. When it comes to pens, I prefer something a little less evil. Certainly the theft of a little writing utensil is on a different scale than the theft of a purse, card or car.

Especially if the owner never realizes it’s gone. I first realized I had a pen problem nearly three years ago when I was working at Paul Quinn College.

My desk was about a foot or two away from my supervisor, a woman maybe three years older than me. She was more like a big sister than boss. I didn’t have a car at the time and the college was built on top of this hill which a deadly incline, especially when it was wet. She would take me home most days, any time I would cave in and let her. Anyway, during the day, sometimes her pens, highlighters, etc. would simply end up on my desk. She’d be looking for something writing tool and sure enough I had it, unhidden, unabashed and completely unaware of when or how it became my hostage.

Three years and many pens later, I’m proud to say my fingers have grown a little less sticky. Yep. I have an arsenal of them locked and ready in my cars, jackets, purses and scattered throughout the house that I have either personally bought or been gifted with. Call me a reformed pen thief. But watch your desk.


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