Toe in the Water

The Faithfulness of Inanimate Objects

The Faithfulness of Inanimate Objects

Every morning, at about 10:00am, I stop what I’m doing, open the shoebox on my desk and take out the pills I’m supposed to swallow each day. I arrange them in a vaguely constellation pattern (each time slightly different - it’s a memory aid) and then swallow them in threes with a glop of water from the bottle hiding behind the monitor.

When that’s done, I grab my WDC calendar that they send us every year, extract my trusty Bic ballpoint pen from its place between laptop and keyboard, and check the day’s date on the calendar. Then everything goes back in its place (apart from the pills that are now doing what they do in the dark and unknown interior of my aged body) and I go back to whatever I was doing.

This little ceremony is designed to assist me in remembering to take my medicines on time and to provide reassurance that the deed has been done if I become uncertain later in the day. But it also provides an excellent example of the enduring and reliable service of certain humble and self-effacing inanimate assistants we employ. Today’s ritual has suggested to me that I sing the praises of one of these, the ever present and always eager to serve Bic ballpoint pen.

Bic pens are ubiquitous yet disregarded. They serve faithfully and without honour in probably every country in the world. I have never known one to run out of ink. Most, of course, never get anywhere near doing such a thing, being the item most commonly “borrowed” and lost in the vicissitudes of the day. Their numbers are so widespread and teeming that they are regularly replaced by another of their ilk and so their service continues, never remarked upon or praised.

They are, indeed, a fine example of “cheapest being best.” I have no doubt that their initial success was a result of their simplicity, cheapness and reliability, but these have also resulted in their being taken for granted. They deserve better.

This matter of the longevity of their ink supply, for instance, is something I am researching at the moment. The Bic mentioned in the above description of my daily medicinal ritual has not needed replacing in years. I have guarded it jealously and provided it with the special protection of having a stash of brand new Bics hidden away for doling out to those who come asking if I have a pen. They get one of the new ones and are told to keep it. It will only be a matter of days before they arrive in search of a pen again, but my test subject is protected from such a cavalier attitude to the matter of inanimate assistants.

So this is in praise of Bic pens and, by association, of all those humble assistants that we take for granted in our daily lives. Mice and keyboards are other examples of excellence in spite of cheapness, although there does not seem to be a single marque responsible for their manufacture (unless “Generic” is a brand). If you want a mouse or keyboard that will serve you uncomplaining for years, just buy the cheapest on offer. Those fancy and expensive ones are just going to let you down in a month or two.

All this and I have yet to mention the strangest and most unexpected facet of the Bic pen’s existence. The really weird thing is that they’re French. Being British, I have to scorn the French at every opportunity but, at the same time, I must admit that there are certain things that they do really well. And the Bic pen stands at the head of that list.


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