I’d like to say I’m standing here playing with pens because it’s what I decided to do, but the truth is that I was cleaning and then saw the mail and then I needed a pen and then I saw the state of the pen drawer . . .
So here I stand at the kitchen island.
I take yet another pen, scratch a few circles and lines on the notepaper Angel Tree sent me, and then either put the pen in the reject or keeper pile. Surprisingly the flashy ones, the ones I WANT to keep, are the least successful at producing anything.
I give every pen a chance to prove itself. I don’t give each one much time—either it works or it doesn’t—but the BIC pens are different. I have a soft spot for BICs: simple design, reliable and clean, they don’t mess up a page or give an inconsistent line.
Until . . .
I pick up this red one. Apparently this pen wants more of an adventure. Together we cross highlighter canyons, blue bushes, black ravines, and visit all four borders of the notepad’s design. We even climb the Christmas tree.
I’m willing to give this pen time to prove itself.
Because I trust the quality of a BIC pen.
Because I know its maker.
And sure enough, I eventually see a solid streak of red ink flow from the pen’s tip . . . right where the purple marker paled into insignificance.