When I first started working at the University, one of the tools I inherited from my predecessor was a longish, Phillips head screwdriver. After some use and experimentation I discovered that this Enderes Tools twelve inch Phillips head screwdriver is the Perfect Screwdriver. It has a head that fits all but the smallest of screws and seems designed to accommodate PC case screws. The shaft is not a cheap stainless plated metal, but rather seems to be milled, and has a pleasing dull color and mat finish.
The shaft of most screwdrivers has a circular cross section, not my screwdriver. My screwdriver has a hexagonal cross section, much like a pencil. This combined with it's more fricative finish and superbly balanced handle, allows one to twirl the shaft betwixt the fingers and swiftly send a screw home. Using this technique I can often secure a screw faster than someone using an electric screwdriver.
Put simply, I love my screwdriver, and others covet it. My coworker, Roger, was blessed to have been issued an identical screwdriver. We had taken the precaution of marking our beloved screwdrivers, to prevent any mix-up, as we were both militant about our possession of these wonderful tools. Unfortunately he broke the tip off his while attempting to improperly torque a screw in an HP LaserJet. For some time he tried to claim that it was instead my own screwdriver that had become damaged, and that I had modified the markings so that I may own the tool that was whole.
That was of course a bloody lie, but seeing as how I am a warm, kind, and understanding man I would occasionally let him borrow my undamaged wonder tool. Of course I also took these opportunities to make jest at his misfortune, I'm also a prankster with a mean streak.
About eighteen months ago my uber driver went missing. I combed the shop looking for it and went through all my tool areas. It was lost. I blamed Roger for stealing it, claiming that he was jealous of my hexagonal shaft, and in a fit of rage had conspired to deprive me of my most prized possession. He objected, claiming that even had he taken it, it was his right for suffering my taunting. I lamented the loss of such a fine tool, but time must march forward.
And march forward it did, until last Monday. On Monday I was forced to deal with my office. The stacks of free magazines, software manuals and office memorandums had reached preposterous heights. There was a small hole on the top of my desk were my keyboard sat, all around it were sliding piles of paper, CD's and mostly empty soda cans. I make no apologies for the way I live, I'm a busy man and often lack the necessary time to effectively clean my surroundings.
Yet, on Monday last, the towers of filth had reached Homeric proportions. I inched one stack of Internet Week, over to provide a better view of my left hand monitor when all of the sudden the pile twitched violently, keeled to one side and scattered across my keyboard, off the desk, and onto the garbage can, dispersing three weeks of carryout containers.
Twas then I decided I should clean my office. Two and a half hours and two full size garbage cans later, I made a discovery. Under the remains of a mostly disassembled scan jet I found my most prized tool. Irony at it's finest, for over a year I had blamed a coworker for the theft of an object that I had lost due to my own slovenly habits.
I did the only thing possible in this situation. I snuck into Roger’s office while he was away and hid the screwdriver amongst his other tools. When he returned I entered and began a ploy about borrowing his Torx set when I pretended to discover the prize and then blamed him for stealing it and hiding it from me. His first response, “(laughing) Where did you find it? Did you finally clean your office? (more laughing).”
All’s well that ends well.