You’re a wonderful asset. You hold things together for me in a way that those little paperclips never could. Your sleek, round design makes it a pleasure to hold you and the way you let me push more and more into you is more satisfying than any other stapler I’ve ever had.
Overall, our relationship over the years has been excellent. Lately, though, you’ve developed this habit of only doing the job halfway. You might tell me that it’s better than nothing, but I refuse to settle for that. Maybe I sound demanding, Stapler, but when I need you, you have to really dig in and finish it off. If I wanted to do it myself, I wouldn’t have bothered with you in the first place.
I’m not trying to make you jealous, but there’s a newer model that I’ve had my eye on for a while. Please, let’s work this out before you force me to do something you’ll regret.
For a few years now, we’ve had our on and off relationship. Some might call it wrong, but you’re always there for me on command. You let me subtract what I like, you’re always willing to divide for me. But when we multiply, well, let’s just say you’ve ruined other calculators for me. It’s like I’m pushing all the right buttons and that equals a good time.
Your physical features are just the start of it, though. You have an amazing memory and such quick recall that I feel inferior before you. And no matter what, you’re able to tell me how much to tip or what the sales tax is going to be.
It seems that you’re a bit burdened by it all, though. You’ve been less and less willing to let me add anything and it’s frustrating. If it’s okay with you, I want to give you a break and maybe start over with a new calculator for a while.
You’re not out of the picture by any measure, of course, I’m happy to have you sitting on the corner of my desk like always. I just feel like we’d both be better served by trying something different.
Don’t forget me,