I am proud to tell you that I am an XTREME secretary. For years, I was just a regular run-of-the-mill secretary, but then one day, when I was banging my knuckles on a filing cabinet handle to discharge the electric shock, I realized that I have taken secretarialism to a whole other level: the XTREME level.
One of my XTREME responsibilities at my office is to order supplies. Boring? Mundane? Ha. I happen to love shopping for office supplies. Various sizes of binder clips, a new type of view binder, the smell of the new electric stapler…
I admit I might have a problem.
I placed an order through a certain bulk office supply company (Reliable, there I said it) about four years ago. I had just started my job, and we were in dire need of supplies. When the package of supplies arrived at the office, I tore into it like a hyena tears into a movie-theater-sized box of Junior Mints.
Highlighters, manila folders, sticky notes, ballpoint pens! And paper clips.
My, oh my, a lot of paperclips.
I looked at the packing slip. Indeed, I had ordered an abundance of paper clips.
Boxes and boxes and boxes of paperclips.
Apparently, when I thought I had ordered 5 or 6 tiny boxes of paper clips (jumbo and regular, each), what I had actually ordered was 5 or 6 bulk packages of paper clips. They were like a quarter apiece.
We, the office budget coordinator and myself, decided not to return the paper clips, more of a hassle than the buck it had cost for the gross lot. One might think that this is a minor disaster by a halfway incompetent administrative support person. I tend to think it was major foresight by an XTREME secretary who knew that there would be papers in the future that needed to be kept together, not in a permanent way, but in the carefree way that only a paper clip can provide.
And I have not had to order more paper clips for the office in the entire four-and-a-half years I have been employed there. How XTREME is that?