The Story of the Pens

I know my family's eccentric. We have little quirks and traditions that are totally lovable and adorable and endearing, but they're unusual none-the-less. One family tradition revolves around luxury pens.

Usually my mother or some member of the family presents a pen to another as a sign of congratulations: My father received a nice one for his last promotion years ago and then another when he got a new job; my brother received one when he entered his co-op and then was upgraded to a nicer one when he started his current job. Entry level positions deserve a respectably decent pen; senior level's require something super nice -- like the expensive Mont Blancs. You may think it's ridiculous to pay that much for a pen - something you doodle with - and you're mostly right... but with us it's a symbol of status -- like loafers. You can't wear leather loafers with little tassels into the office unless you command a certain amount of respect, boast a certain amount of influence. I'm not sure if everyone still pays attention to these kinds of details, but we do. Anyways -- despite all of my internships, my past employment in a PR firm, my field which focuses upon WRITING -- I have never received a pen. Ever.

So being the bratty youngest child that I am, I threw a little fit (all in jest, of course) at dinner the other night. Jokingly I argued that I'm obviously the unwanted child and this was just another example. We laughed about it, my parents asked if I wanted one for Christmas and I told them no -- I don't have a job nor is it something that should be prompted. Giving a gift of a pen is a way to say, "I'm proud of you" -- you can't ask for it. It would take all those warm fuzzy feelings away. But that was the end of it and I totally forgot about the whole discussion... for a few days, at least.

I was recently "hired" by the Professional Staffing Group. It's obviously not my dream job, but it's going to help me find a job and in the meantime I'll be doing some shitty office work/intern-like-stuff to earn a pay check. I left the interview psyched to have a job, health insurance, something to do. I called my whole family to spread the good news: "I'm going to be someone's office bitch for awhile." Sitting down for a late, long chinese dinner, my brother approached me with a little gift bag. "I got you a pen suited for the job you got."

My brother is such a nice guy.

I was so happy, so thankful. How sweet of him to remember and to think of me like this! He was proud of his little sister! I tore the bag apart, smiling ear to ear, waiting in anxious anticipation to see what status symbol he deemed me worthy to receive, and there -- at the bottom of the bag -- lay a white plastic BIC ball point pen.

My brother is also a dick.