To you it may be just a paper clip. To me, it’s a serendipitous emblem of hope, a curious mix of mystery and possibility.
It came into my life last week. Of all the copy rooms in all the offices in this bureaucratic, document-infested town, this paper clip wandered into mine.
I don’t know how it got there. I don’t know where it belongs. All I know is somewhere someone must be missing it. It’s too special to end up sitting in a communal supply bin, hoping for rescue from the miasma of ordinary office supplies.
There it was, carelessly tossed among the utilitarian metal clips, disregarded, possibly even envied by its fancier plastic neighbors, so obviously out of place but with nowhere else to be.
There I was, attending to my own administrative tasks after normal business hours, both of us out of place in this fluorescent-lit machine room.
For my part, I come here often, and when I do, I always check the bin for plastic paper clips.
I’ve been hoarding them for some time now, ever since the Great Recession forced our supply room to stop stocking plastic clips as a cost-cutting measure. Thanks to a highly placed ally and these stealthy procurement runs, my secret mission to maintain a steady stock of plastic paper clips has met with quiet triumph for almost four years.
Until this one appeared, a good catch was a handful of large plastic clips, which are slightly more precious to come by. When I surreptitiously cast my glance across the counter, I never suspected spying this. To say it is the coolest paper clip ever to have entered this room is a gross understatement.
Not only does it combine the durability of metal with the color and pliability of plastic, it’s guitar-shaped. You don’t just come by guitar-shaped paper clips any day of the week. It has to be special to someone, which means it’s quite possible someone else around here appreciates guitars. Or maybe music in general. Or maybe just fun paper clips.
Still, this is a rough-and-tumble town. This paper clip should be cherished, not haphazardly attached to meaningless documents and tossed in a bin, like so many everyday metal fasteners. I’ve taken it home, where it has been sitting on the sideboard. Every time I pass by it, I smile.
It’s a really groovy paper clip. For now, it’s one of a few of my favorite things.
This post is the first of a three-part series of “A Few of My Favorite Things,” the Weekly Writing Challenge on WordPress. Serendipity is one of my favorite things*, if a bit more abstract than would be in keeping with the spirit of the challenge. So I went with paper clip.
The challenge topic gave me a framework for writing about three things that have come my way recently through the beauty of serendipity, which, as you may recall (*because I just said so), is one of my favorite things. I just love it when things fall into place like that.

I live in Nashville, Guitar Town, Music City USA, and I’ve never seen a paper clip shaped like a guitar, although a local developer is talking about building a high-rise shaped like a guitar standing on end, so there’s that.
Is it going to be commercial or residential? Who am I kidding? I would live there. Totally.
I can’t remember the last time I used a paper clip, but I’d be happy to use that one. I suspect if you clip it to some papers and listen very carefully, you’ll hear the papers singing. In fact, I’m sure of it.
I love serendipity myself. Did you know Horace Walpole invented the word? He took it from the Persian fairy-tale, The Three Princes of Serendip, because, as he told Horace Mann in a letter, ” the heroes “were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of.”
Just like life, huh?
PS – loving the new look here chez Cahier
The theme is the same but I was hoping the color combination would be easier on the eyes. It’s looking a little pink on this screen and I can never pull off pink very well. On my other computers it’s yellow-ish.
If I ever did know the origin of serendipity, I’d forgotten it, so thanks for the information!
That is a great paper clip! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Congratulations!
I started out to say, “It’s the little things. You have to appreciate the little things,” which reminded me of a thought I had yesterday: If it’s the little things that matter, but you’re not supposed to sweat the small stuff,” what’s the difference between little and small?
Hmm, good question. In my dictionary, little and small are listed as synonyms. Does that mean the two sayings contradict each other? Or, is it that the little/small things matter, but you shouldn’t sweat them? Great, now I’m a little confused, but I won’t sweat it.
It ain’t easy being us.
Ain’t that the truth. (You crack me up.)
cool!
Isn’t it, though?!
That is one rockin paper clip! Thanks for letting me know I’m not alone in admiring exemplary office supplies. Since I usually work from home, I rarely encounter them serendipitously. Until today, that is…
My other favorite “S” word — synchronicity: your comment came through just as I was looking at a certain picture of hushpuppies and thinking, “Hushpuppies are on my favorite things list, too.” I’m hungry now.
You eat shoes?
Is that wrong??
Not if you’re sure to cook them properly – don’t want any foodborn illness!
It’s a delicate balance. Cook them too long and they get all leathery.
My gift to you . . .http://www.paperclips.cn/view.asp?id=903
Rock on.
GASP!!!! And saxophones, too?!
What a bargain — the price says 0.00!
My grandparents only dreamed of a world where you could buy body organ-shaped paper clips.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
And they are free? I didn’t notice that.
My husband and daughter play the guitar so I am ordering some for stocking stuffers.
That is a treasure. I hope you turn it over so the centerpiece gets flexed equally in both directions to preserve it.
Oh, you, you. . .oh, you. Gosh, you’re smart.
Nice looking paper clip – must make all the other paper clips envious!
I rescued it before they had a chance to smash a perfectly good guitar. (That’s a song reference. I can’t help myself.)
I have a weird thing for binder clips.
Where do you find the wordpress challenge? I wanna play!
One day I’m going to be brave enough to write about “Miracle Rose,” so named because of the story of her miracle rose. There’s also the story of her jack o’lantern poinsettia, and I have mentioned from time to time her fervent belief that San Francisco is both a city and a state, just like New York. A recent episode in her adventures centers around binder clips.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/weekly-writing-challenge-a-few-of-my-favorite-things/ . You can click follow on that page to add it to your reader. They’re also at tthe bottom of the screen when you’re lookinng at the stats page, etc.
Can’t wait to read about your binder clips!
Ordinarily, I throw away paper clips. Cannot abide them. I’m a binder clip person. However, I’d probably hang onto that one you have. It’s unique – well, I doubt that – I suppose they made millions of them. But you found one of them! Is it signed?
Paper clips are necessary around these parts. I don’t care for the metal ones, hence the hoarding of the plastic ones. This one stood out, like a diamond in the sand or some other sappy metaphor. It isn’t signed . . .yet.
Cool — I’d have kept it, too!
If it had been on the counter or on the floor, I’d have probably left it, but someone intentionally placed it in the Used Paper Clip bin. I think that means finders-keepers. It does now.
Super cool! Of course, playing “air guitar” may be a bit of a challenge. You need to find a guy with really teeny fingers and ask him for a rendition of “Stairway to Heaven.”
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That is, without a doubt, the coolest paper clip I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of paper clips.
I had a feeling it was special.
When I worked in an office, I would always hoard the colorful, striped paper clips. But that guitar clip is wicked cool. Who would give up something like that?
That paper clip makes me want to sing a song!
Please!!!