I am a sucker for office supplies and power tools. And while a female of my age and profession (and incapacity to even assemble Kmart furniture) has a hard time justifying the purchase of a good circle saw, I can come up with several good reasons for why I might need a new set of sharpies or another box of pencils. They are deceptively useful.
In my desk, there are three doors, three cabinets, and four shelves. Of those storage spaces, at least six hold some type of office supply. In most cases, they are filled with them: pencils, pens, scissors, sharpeners, colored paper, loose-leaf paper, black sharpies, colored sharpies, silver sharpies (okay, only one of those), mailing tape, envelopes,...the list goes on. If I count them up, I have a total of 172 writing utensils, of which I probably consistently use five or six. I have collected all the rubber bands from my delivered newspapers over the course of the last year, though I've only used probably three. I still have the pencil pouch I used in sixth grade and another from middle school. I am knee-deep in office supplies, and I can only imagine how many dollar bills I could be wading in instead if I'd never bought all this stuff in the first place.
The problem with office supplies is that they're specifically made to be useful. That's what they do; they get used. Sure, the pens can be in pretty colors and the pencil sharpeners might be glittery from time to time, but let's be clear here, people don't buy pencils to decorate their homes or to accentuate a neckline; they buy them to write. Which begs the question, if I'm not using it, what's the point of having it in the first place? So I send along two gift bags worth of pens and pencils. Who knows, maybe they'll end up in the hands of the next poet laureate or the next president or the next Charlie Sheen. For better or for worse, office supplies aren't known for their discriminating taste.
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