Pencil Sharpener

Spencer kept me awake Saturday night with another episode of a faux virus, in which we walked like mummies from his bed to the bathroom every hour for a session of dry heaves. Only once did he actually get sick. And not much. But enough that I stayed home from church with him.

By noon, it was apparent that he wasn't actually sick. He makes himself sick when he gets overly hungry... that sensation of being so hungry you feel sick works overtime in Spencer.

We went through with our plans to go to the Moodys' house for lunch. On the way there, Spencer said, "I really wish we didn't have to get up and leave my room so much last night." I smiled and asked him if he was sleepy, and he admitted he had just yawned. I suggested he might like a nap this afternoon, and he said he'd think about it.

He just woke up. Three hours after he laid down to think about it.

After lunch, while Bruce took the kids home, I made a third trip in the last week to Office Depot. I had one goal - to replace, for the second time, a defective battery-operated pencil sharpener.

Last weekend, I bought a basic pencil sharpener on sale for $8. I got home, opened the box, and noticed the receptacle where the pencil shavings are stored would not shut completely. I'm not a pencil sharpener designer, so on the chance that it was made that way on purpose, I actually read the instruction manual.

Who really needs instructions for a pencil sharpener? How hard can it be to insert some batteries and poke a dull pencil in a hole?

Still, they came in handy. The shaving receptacle was indeed supposed to shut tightly, according to the four-page instruction manual. (Four pages long mostly because every language except Swahili had to be represented. They evidently don't use this particular brand of battery-operated pencil sharpener in East Africa.)

Alas, my new sharpener was returned on my second trip to Office Depot. But this time, I opened the only other sharpener on the shelf that was identical to my original purchase. Same manufacturer's defect... a shaving holder that wouldn't shut completely.

So I upgraded. I picked another pencil sharpener, and paid an additional $12 for the difference in cost between the two.

Can you guess what's next? I got it home, out of the package, batteries loaded, pencil inserted... nothing. No grunt, no whir, no nothing. Dead.

Yesterday, I went back to Office Depot for the third time. I explained my situation to the first unfortunate sales clerk I came across. Only this time, I threw in this request for some customer satisfaction: "I want you to put batteries in the next pencil sharpener I chose and prove to me that it works before I leave this store and waste any more of my $4 per gallon gas to make another trip here."

I waited for fifteen minutes while the sales clerk tried to track down four double-A batteries. Her cash register stood right in front of the battery display. But I was good. I didn't show any obvious body language. And my mouth stayed shut. I didn't even allow myself to let off a loud sigh. I kept it inside.

Finally, batteries were found and placed inside the new pencil sharpener, the same version as the second one I chose.

And then the clerk looked at me and said, "You don't happen to have a pencil, do you?"

Uhhhh. No. I don't. I have four pens in my purse, but no pencil. But lucky for us both, we are standing in an OFFICE SUPPLY STORE. Surely, between the two of us, we can track down a pencil somewhere.

I thought that. I didn't say that. I just said "no" because I kept repeating two phrases in my head over and over. "I am a Christian. I need to act like one. I am a Christian. I need to act like one..."

A pencil was located, inserted, and the wooden dust flew wildly inside the tightly shut shavings receptacle.



Beautiful, isn't it?

I was happy.

For one brief, shining moment.

Until the clerk started doing all the register work. And asked me to pay an additional $12.

Office Depot. Taking Care of Business.

Right.

Well, I said it then. The very first thing that came to my mind. I didn't hold back. I had just enough presence of mind to control the modulation of my voice so that the words did not come out shouting, as they were in my head.

"No. I don't owe you any more money. This is an even trade. One broken pencil sharpener for one operating pencil sharpener. Of the same make and model. Which I have already paid for during my two previous visits here."

The clerk was nice. I will give her that.

But she maintained that "something wasn't right." Well, honey, I tried to tell you that when I first got here. And you are blowing your chance to remedy the situation.

I'm not sure what was going on, but she explained to me that her register was showing that I owed her money.

In my nicely controlled voice, I said, "That's not my problem. That's your register's problem. You scan the UPC symbol, an amount pops up on the screen, and I slide my debit card to pay that amount. I've done my part correctly."

She called the manager. She explained my dilemma.

I was back to my "no speaking" policy for the moment. I wanted to see if the manager could figure out that 8 + 12 = 20 without the assistance of the register. He stuck some keys in the register, turned them, hit some buttons, said the magic words "even trade" and gave his blessing to send me on my merry way.

I'm not sure if it was magic, the fact that my body was sprouting scales and dangerously close to morphing into a dragon and taking them all out with one little puff of fire, or God's protection.

Of them. And of me.

Whatever it was, I left with a headache.

Have we come to rely so heavily on computers that we can't even use common sense? Twenty bucks. She had all her fingers, and I assume all her toes, although I can't be certain because she wasn't wearing sandals. Surely she could add up to twenty by simply using the appendages God gave her. Works for me when I have a math problem.

I came home and took a nap.

One could argue validly that I should have maybe done that very thing before going to Office Depot. But who knew?