Handicapped Pencils

The Library purchases Mirado Black Warrior pencils by the boxfuls. I find them to be a perfect fit for my hand and a perfect lead size for the lines I like making in books to underline important points. I keep a number of them in my office and handy in places where I work.

Today I needed to sharpen a full box of them so people could fill out forms. I stood at the reference desk by the electric sharpener and began to feed the pristine pencils into the little circle of the sharpener. I could feel the blades of the whirling mechanism engage with the wood, and heard the whine change from heavy work to the 'all done' status of nothing left to shave off.

One after another I fed the pencils into the sharpener until I hit an obstinate pencil. When the whine ceased, I pulled it out, and the wood was still completely covering one side of the pencil. The side that had been shaved away was actually naked or empty. The lead part was completely missing. Hum.

I stuck it back in and tried again, twirling and twisting the thin cylinder this way and that, hoping to get an even sharpening. Once again, I found the pencil only half sharpened. After five tries, I realized that the pencil would be worn to a nub and still not usable. How is that possible? I guess there is one in every box. But no. By the time I finished the box of 25, there were 3 defective pencils. This is not good.

Really, you say, its just a pencil. Get over it. And I do. Really. I tuck the defective things in a desk drawer. I cannot bring myself to throw them away. Is the cheap gene so deep that I cannot bear to let go of useless stuff? Or do I somehow hope that the pencils may be save from oblivion by some other process? Perhaps a pocketknife to sharpen them? A manual pencil sharpener? Surely there is salvation out there somewhere.

I do not have the time or freedom to address these poor little pencils right now. They will have to wait until a better day. Surely someone will come along and save them from a fate worse than death - being stuffed away out of sight where they will not cause anyone undue angst.

I tap the drawer gently and promise myself not to forget them. I will uncover a solution someday and return them to society where they belong. Until then, I hope they don't starve to death.