Visiting my Dad at work used to be beat. I couldn’t ever tuck my shirt in without making the dang boxers constrain my Netherlands. All the receptionists wanted to marry me, but being nine I knew I was safe. Dad’s friends would crush my hand letting me know that they were big shot lawyers, but would then throw in a wink to make sure I knew they sat at the cool table during lunch. “Nice to meet you, oh right, nice to see you again.” And plus, getting dizzy in dad’s office chair was only fun until you got dizzy.
This changed. As the room circled around me I saw Dad grab paper and slide it into the printer. This was no color printer used to make birthday cards for grandma though, this printer destroyed things. Legal documents turned into fortunes for giants with a satisfying whir of the engine. This was no color printer at all actually, it was a paper shredder, and I needed one.
Seeing this beast in action changed my outlook on life. Spelling book? I could shred that easy, social studies text book? Cover would be tricky but yeah, shreddable, trapper keeper? Would never shred my trapper keeper ever but I totally could if I wanted to.
It was safe to say, the AC-450 shredder was on my Christmas list, and heck it is also safe to say that the 25th was a let down that year. How mom didn’t see the need, the desire and the importance that shredding crap all day everyday was going to be is beyond me. Did she expect me to ride my bike to Dad’s office 7 times a day?
I visited my Dad at work a month later. With me I brought my list of “Things to Shred” complete with leaves, carrots, ice cubes and the tighty whities I don’t wear anymore. The dream was gone, at least no one would ever know what I was planning. I was not going to leave a paper trail.
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